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1 





THE BOY SCOUTS OF 
SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


BY RUPERT SARGENT HOLLAND 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF BIRCH- 
BARK ISLAND 

Illustrated in color and black and 
white by Herbert Pullinger. $1.25 net. 

‘‘ Full of the flavor of the woods and 
water, and the troop has just the sort of 
adventurous life that all Boy Scouts look 
for .” — Pittsburgh Dispatch. 

THE MAN IN THE TOWER 

Illustrated in color and black and 
white by Frank H. Desch. $1.25 net. 

“Enough excitement, mystery and tragedy 
in the book for twenty romances. No 
pause in the series of thrills.” 

— Chicago Herald. 


J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS PHILADELPHIA 





PHILIP TOOK HIS FIRST-AID PACKET FROM HIS POCKET AND WASHED THE 
BLOOD FROM THE CUT ON THE MAN’s FOREHEAD 


Page so 



tC»S8a«mM300Q800001 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 
SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


BY 

RUPERT SARGENT HOLLAND 

AUTHOR OF ‘‘THE BOY SCOUTS OF BIRCH-BARK ISLAND,” 
“ THE MAN IN THE TOWER,” ETC. 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY 
WILL THOMSON 



PHILADELPHIA & LONDON 
J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY 






COPYRIGHT, I9IS» by J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY 


PUBLISHED OCTOBER, IQIS 





PRINTED BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY 
AT THE WASHINGTON SQUARE PRESS 
PHILADELPHIA, U, S. A. 



NQV “9 1915 

©CI,A416275 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER page 

I. The Camp in the North Woods 9 

II. The Man Who Lived by the Lake 23 

III. The Skate-Sailers 34 

IV. First Aid to the Injured 45 

V. The Troops on the Hike 57 

VI. The Field of Ice 74 

VII. Scouts on Skis and Snow-Shoes 93 

VIII. The Wise Guy Explores 108 

^ DC. The Storm in the Woods 123 

X. The Stolen Provisions 140 

XL The House Near the Beaver Pond 155 

XIL Raising the Alarm 171 

XIII. The Leader of the Beaver Patrol 184 

XIV. Scouts in Bondage 202 

XV. The Round-Up 216 

XVL The Return to the Castle 231 

XVH. A Winter Carnival 245 

XVHI. Mysterious Preparations 256 

XIX. Scouts to the Rescue 271 

XX. The Gala Night at the Castle 281 



ILLUSTRATIONS 


Philip Took His First-Aid Packet from His Pocket and 
Washed the Blood from the Cut on the Man’s Fore- 


head Frontispiece r 

Rob Swung the Flag in a Great Circle 54 ^ 


Dick was Showing Max How to Manage the Skis 93 

“ Slid Down the Roof, Did You ”? Demanded Bill, Putting 
Out His Hand to Catch Max by the Shoulders 169 

The Scouts Hid in the Old Shack and Behind the Stone Wall. 222 


The Gala Night at the Castle 


290 



THE BOY SCOUTS OF 
SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


I 

THE CAMP IN THE NORTH WOODS 

“ It wouldn’t be hard to track a fox or a moose 
or any other kind of an animal through snow like 
that, would it, Dick ? ” asked Philip Dutton, as he 
stood at the dining-room window, and looked out at 
the soft, clean snow. 

It wouldn’t if you knew what the fox’s tracks 
looked like,” agreed the other boy. He rubbed his 
fist over the frosted window-pane in order to get a 
better view of outdoors. “ Whew, but wouldn’t I 
love to be a hunter or a trapper, and live on snow- 
shoes and skis ! ” 

'' The trouble with school is,” said Philip, “ that 
the only holiday that’s any real good comes in sum- 
mer. Christmas is all right, but there’s too much 
city to it. Think how much scouting and outdoor 
things we’d learn if we only spent two weeks in the 
9 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


woods in January! The Troop can’t go far enough 
Saturdays and Sundays. We ought to have a week 
anyway to learn winter-camping.” 

“ Sure we ought,” assented Dick Warner, but 
the man who invented school didn’t have sense 
enough to ask you and me about it. Then besides, 
schools were invented before Boy Scouts were, worse 
luck ! ” 

Hello, you two,” said a man’s voice behind 
them, and they turned to find Mr. Grafton, the assist- 
ant to the Head-master, smiling at them. What’s 
the conspiracy? Won’t you let me in on it? ” 

The twinkle in Mr. Grafton’s eyes always made 
boys feel like laughing at some joke he was sharing 
with them. Dick chuckled. ‘‘We think that the 
Troop ought to take a hike through the woods in 
winter, just the way it does in summer,” he ex- 
plained. “ A long enough one to learn some real 
winter woodcraft.” 

“ There’s a lot we ought to know about outdoors 
in winter,” added Philip, nodding his head so that 
his black hair, which gave him the look of an Indian, 
bobbed up and down on his forehead. 

“ You’re right,” agreed Mr. Grafton. “ I once 
10 


THE CAMP IN THE NORTH WOODS 


heard a guide down in Maine say that most of the 
men from the cities who came up to hunt with him 
thought the woods and the rivers went to sleep in 
winter, like a bear taking his winter nap; but that 
really there was just as much going on there then as 
in mid-summer.” He looked through the space that 
Dick had cleared on the window-pane, and stared for 
a minute at the ice-bound limbs of a maple in the 
yard. ‘‘ I don’t know but what that’s the very answer 
to a question we’ve been puzzling our heads over 
for a day or two.” He stopped, but the boys very 
tactfully did not ask what the question was, and so 
in a minute he told them. “ You know George 
Warden’s been sick; and though they’re not quite 
sure what’s the matter, they think it may be some- 
thing contagious. They don’t want to have you boys 
go home again so soon after the holidays, but they 
think it might be well to have you away from the 
school till George gets better. I don’t see why taking 
the Troop away on a winter hike wouldn’t solve the 
problem, and teach us all a lot at the same time.” 

Philip’s black eyes gleamed. “If we only could 
go where there’s water,” he exclaimed. “ Just think 
11 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


what scouts could do on skates and ice-boats and 
snow-shoes ! 

Dick stuck his hands in the pockets of his Norfolk 
jacket and tilted up and down on his toes in his ex- 
citement. I think it's a bully way out, Mr. Grafton ! 
There’s a lot we ought to learn about winter ! ” 

The Assistant Head-master laughed. ‘‘ You’re 
born scouts, both of you, aren’t you? Want to be 
out-of-doors in any kind of weather. That’s the 
way I feel too. Well, now don’t say a word about 
this to anyone until I’ve had a talk with Mr. Dixon. 
Mum’s the word, you know.” 

Yes, sir,” agreed the two boys together. 

They said nothing more about it that day, but 
that evening Dick took from the library shelves a 
book on tracks and tracking and Philip found a 
magazine with an article on the sport of skate-sailing, 
and each read steadily until it was time for bed. 

The Cedarcroft School only took twenty-five 
boys, and these had formed a troop of scouts the 
summer before, and with Mr. Grafton as their Scout- 
master, had spent two weeks in the White Moun- 
tains. They had had a splendid time and learned a 
great deal, and the boys’ parents had been so much 
12 


THE CAMP IN THE NORTH WOODS 


pleased with the expedition that when Mr. Grafton 
suggested that a winter outing might prevent the 
quarantining of the school, now that George Warden 
was sick, Mr. Dixon, the Head-master, thought the 
plan was well worth considering. He sent special 
delivery letters to the parents of all the boys, explain- 
ing how matters stood, and in three or four days 
he had received permission to let all the boys go, if 
Mr. Grafton was to be in charge of them. The 
Head-master then made his plans with Mr. Grafton 
and Mr. Robins, who was the Assistant Scout- 
master, a young fellow just out of college who 
coached the football and baseball teams. Then he 
told the boys at dinner-time. What do you think 
of the scheme? ’’ he asked. There was such a cheer 
of approval that he put his hands over his ears to 
shut it out. It was plain the boys thought it was the 
finest thing that could have happened. Then Mr. 
Grafton explained what each boy would need to 
take with him, and added that he had already ordered 
the outfits of clothing and supplies, which would all 
be ready the next morning. They were to start at 
noon, and would be at their camp in the Adirondacks 
the following day. 


13 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


Hurrah for the North Woods sang out 
Philip; and after that there was talk of nothing but 
winter camping and winter sports until they were all 
asleep. 

Next morning the boys appeared in their winter 
scout clothes, and after breakfast helped to pack the 
supplies on a wagon for delivery at the railroad 
station. Mr. Grafton had been to the camp before, 
and knew that there was a small village not very 
far from it where they could buy eggs and milk and 
other things they might need. In addition to the 
clothes they travelled in, each boy took a heavy pair 
of boots, thick woollen stockings, puttees, a heavy 
sweater, fleece-lined gloves, and a worsted cap that 
would pull down over his ears. Each boy also had 
his skates, clean and sharp for use. 

It was a business-like looking troop that left 
Cedarcroft at noon, and a very merry one that woke 
up next morning in the woods. From the car-win- 
dows the boys had glimpses of snow-covered country, 
streams and ponds and lakes where the ice shone in 
the sunlight like a mirror, rolling hills, dotted here 
with pines and cedars, there with the bare trunks of 
forest trees. After a time they left the first train, 
14 


THE CAMP IN THE NORTH WOODS 


and presently boarded a smaller one, only an engine 
and two cars, that slowly puffed its way northwest- 
ward, and finally landed them at the station siding of 
a small settlement. 

Mr. Grafton had telegraphed ahead for a couple 
of big sledges to meet them here, and while the troop 
unloaded their baggage from the train and stowed it 
on board the sledges, the boys ate a hasty lunch of 
sandwiches and cakes of chocolate. Then they were 
off again, drawing in great breaths of the wonderful 
cold air, travelling over the hard frozen road, now 
through woods, now through open country. 

Presently they caught sight of the wide curve of 
a frozen lake to the left of the road. ‘‘ That’s our 
lake ! ” cried Mr. Grafton. The upper end of it.” 
The scouts stood up and yelled, and it seemed as if 
the lake, bordered with trees on the opposite side, 
actually sent their cheers back to them. 

They drove along the lake for at least a mile 
before they reached the little group of cabins that 
was their goal. Some thirty yards from the shore 
of the lake stood five log-cabins, and back of them, 
in a semi-circle, stretched the deep pine forest, an 
excellent wind-break to the north and west. ‘‘ Here 
15 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


we are! ’’ cried Mr. Grafton, and jumped from the 
sledge into a pile of soft snow. In the twinkling 
of an eye the scouts were tumbling and leaping and 
falling out into the drifts along the road. 

Mr. Grafton had the keys to the padlocks on the 
cabin doors, and in a very few minutes windows and 
doors were flung open to let in the cold, clear air. 
Three of the cabins were fitted up with tiers of bunks, 
the fourth, an extra-large one, was furnished for use 
as kitchen and dining-room and lounging-room, and 
the fifth was a general storehouse. “ I don't see why 
people want to live in cities when they can live in a 
place like this," said “ Injun " Philip. It's got all 
the cities I ever saw skinned a mile 1 " 

The Scout-master gave a few orders. The 
Beaver Patrol, of which Dick Warner was the 
leader, was to take the first cabin, the Buffalo Patrol, 
with Injun " Philip as leader, the second, and the 
Blue Herons, under command of a red-haired boy 
called Sandy Simmons, the third. Mr. Grafton was 
to bunk with the Beavers, and Mr. Robins with the 
Blue Herons. One patrol set to work to carry the 
supplies from the sledges to the kitchen and store- 
16 


THE CAMP IN THE NORTH WOODS 


house, another to collect firewood, and the third to 
start preparations for cooking supper. Twenty- four 
boys can do a great deal in a short time, and soon the 
camp began to look ready for business. The empty 
sledges started back to the village at the head of the 
lake, fires crackled on the wide hearths, of the three 
sleeping-cabins and in the kitchen, and a United 
States flag was run up on the tall pole, from which it 
could be seen across the lake and over the nearer 
woods. 

Mr. Robins strapped two water- jars to a small 
sled, and, taking two scouts with him, went up along 
the shore of the lake until he found a spring. Here 
the water had not frozen, but came bubbling out of 
the bank as fresh and pure as in summer. They 
filled the jars and pulled them back to camp, and 
found when they returned that supper was almost 
ready. 1 could eat anything!” cried one of the 
water-bringers, “ Skipper ” Jack Turner, so called 
because he sailed a small catboat every summer. 
‘‘ Hurry up, you cooks, or I’ll be gnawing the bark 
off some of these trees.” 

A freckled- faced boy, wearing a striped toque, 
who was chopping kindling-wood, looked up and 
2 17 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


grinned. Try the roots and acorns first,” he said. 
‘‘ Any trapper could tell you that.” 

Skipper stuck his hands in his pockets and pre- 
tended to look very much impressed. ‘‘ Come gather 
round, fellows,” he said. “ The Wise Guy's going 
to give us first lessons in woodcraft. And why would 
any trapper rather eat roots than bark ? ” 

“ Because your bark is worse than your bite,” 
answered the Wise Guy, and dropping his hatchet, he 
fled around the cabin before Skipper could tumble 
him into the snow. 

Meantime two of the Blue Heron Patrol, which 
had been given charge of the supper, were preparing 
the tables by placing two planks on boxes in the big 
cabin and setting other boxes for chairs on either 
side of these tables, and another scout was placing 
knives and forks, tin plates and cups, bread and 
butter, sugar and salt, and other necessary things. 
Then Sandy Simmons, leader of the Blue Herons, 
went to the door of the cabin and roared '' Supper's 
ready ! ” so loud that he might have been heard by 
any deer on the other side of the lake. There was a 
whoop, and a wild shout, and almost instantly every 
scout had found a place at one of the two tables. 

18 


THE CAMP IN THE NORTH WOODS 


The Blue Herons were good cooks, and the troop 
had delicious bacon and scrambled eggs, baked po- 
tatoes and corn-bread, jam and cake, as much as each 
could eat, and that was saying a great deal. 

After supper the tables were cleared away by 
simply taking the planks off the boxes and piling 
them all in one corner of the cabin. Everything was 
made snug for the night, the flag was lowered from 
the pole, and presently all the boys collected down on 
the shore of the lake. There was no moon, but the 
stars were very bright, and showed clearly the 
smooth shining stretch of ice and the snowy slopes 
of the distant hills. 

The Wise Guy was studying the night sky, and 
suddenly he shouted, ‘‘ I say, fellows, Tve found a 
new constellation! Look, take that star just to the 
right of the North Star, and that one, and that one. 
See, they make a loop, oh, no, it’s more like a snow- 
shoe. It is a snow-shoe! See, Mr. Grafton, that 
big snow-shoe in the sky ! ” 

It might be a snow-shoe,” agreed “ Injun ” 
Philip, as well as anything else.” 

It is a snow-shoe,” declared the Wise Guy, 
very positively. And it’s a lucky omen that I found 
19 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


it. Let’s call the camp Snow-Shoe Lodge; that’s a 
mighty good name for the home of hunters and 
trappers.” 

“ It is a good name,” said Mr. Grafton. “ Snow- 
Shoe Lodge; I don’t believe we could find a better.” 

So the camp was christened, and then they all 
went back to the big cabin, and put fresh wood on 
the fire, and piled their rugs and extra sweaters on 
the floor, and made themselves comfortable before 
the hearth. Mr. Grafton, sitting in the centre, told 
them yams of the North Woods, as these forests 
were called by the first settlers. Fortunes were 
made by the hunters along these lakes in the days 
just after the Revolution, and skins were sent by the 
hundreds out of the woods to Albany, and down the 
Hudson to New York, and across the ocean to the 
great cities of Europe. The lynx, the fox, the fisher, 
the marten, beaver, otter, mink, muskrat, and coon 
were all to be found there, the pelt of the silver fox 
being the most valuable of all. Caribou, moose, 
mountain lions, bears and panthers were at large in 
those days ; there was no place in the world where 
more different kinds of animals lived than in these 
woods and along these shores. He knew the habits 
20 


THE CAMP IN THE NORTH WOODS 


of many of the animals, and he described them to the 
scouts, who listened eagerly. “ The good trapper 
could trail a deer as easily as you can follow a street- 
car track,” he said, and tell the bark of a fox over 
miles of snow from the call of a wolf as easily as you 
tell a steam whistle from an automobile horn. There 
was nothing he didn’t see or note, though most wood- 
knowledge soon came to be his second-nature.” 

When the Scout-master finished, the boys were 
ready to tumble into their bunks. They separated 
to their different cabins. But Skipper Jack and the 
Wise Guy could not resist a farewell look at the 
shining ice of the lake. Tell you what I mean to 
do,” said the Skipper. “ I mean to make a sail and 
skate from here to the village in record time.” 

Sounds good,” agreed the Wise Guy. But 
wouldn’t it be fine if there were only Indians or 
wolves behind to make you skate faster? ” 

Just then an owl hooted in the woods back of 
them, and both scouts jumped. Thought it was an 
Indian, didn’t you?” said Skipper. “Well, if you 
jump at an owl, what would you do with a wolf.?’ ” 

“ I’d break the record for the hundred-yard 
dash,” declared the Wise Guy. “ Come on, the 
21 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


sooner we get to sleep the sooner we’ll be up in the 
morning. And I can see there’s going to be a great 
deal to do round these diggings.” 

Half an hour later Snow-Shoe Lodge was asleep, 
and the woods and the lake heard only the thousand 
small noises that make up the music of a winter 
night. 


II 

THE MAN WHO LIVED BY THE LAKE 


‘"Whoop-ee!” cried Rob Grant, looking over 
the edge of his bunk in the cabin of the Buffalo 
Patrol next morning. ‘‘ It certainly looks cold out 
there on the floor ! Won’t somebody please turn on 
the heater ? ” 

‘‘ Where do you think you are? ” said “ Injun ” 
Phil, who, already dressed, was piling fresh wood on 
the fire. You’ll be wanting the butler to bring 
your breakfast up from down-stairs next.” 

“ I think we’re near the North Pole, floating 
’round on a cake of ice,” volunteered the Wise Guy 
from his bunk on the other side of the cabin. “ My 
nose feels like an icicle; it gives me the shivers to 
touch it.” 

Skipper, in the bunk above, leaned out and 
dropped a pillow squarely on the Wise Guy’s face. 

That’ll warm your nose,” said he. ‘‘ One, two, 
three, jump ! ” He threw off his bed-clothes and 
leaped down to the floor. 

23 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


In a minute more the rest of the scouts were 
hurrying into their clothes as if they were afraid of 
being frozen. 

No sooner were they dressed than they opened 
the door and dashed down to the frozen lake like a 
pack of thirsty bear cubs sighting water. Skipper 
slid out on the ice, going a good thirty yards before 
he lost his balance and toppled over. After him came 
the others, shouting and waving their arms, all finally 
upsetting like ninepins in an alley. Then a bugle 
sounded, and the Buffaloes, now thoroughly warmed, 
dashed for the breakfast tables. It was a jolly 
crew that fell on the oatmeal and eggs and buckwheat 
cakes that morning. Then the Scout-master gave 
out the orders for the day, and after that for a half- 
hour the camp was a perfect bee-hive of activity. 

The middle of the morning found the troop scat- 
tered in a dozen different directions. Skipper and 
Rob Grant and the Wise Guy strapped on their 
skates, and with their scout’s staffs in their hands, 
started on a tour of exploration. A good wind blew 
down the lake as they skated northward, and they 
pulled their woollen toques well over their ears. The 
ice was smooth as glass and they went at a steady 
24 


THE MAN WHO LIVED BY THE LAKE 


pace, slowing up now and then to look into some 
little bay or inlet. They might have gone a mile 
when Rob suddenly stopped and pointed with his 
staff. The other two, following his glance, saw a 
small shack on the shore to the left. A trapper’s 
hut,” muttered the Wise Guy. “ Quietly now,” 
whispered Skipper. See how silently you can 
skate.” 

The three stole up noiselessly to the very edge, 
then round a small point, and came to the front of 
the shack. A man with a reddish beard was sitting 
on a box, whittling a long stick. He looked up, 
surprised to see his three visitors. For the land’s 
sake, where did ye drop from? ” he exclaimed, as if 
they might have descended from the skies. 

“ We’re scouts,” said Skipper, and we’re camp- 
ing down the lake. Are you a trapper? ” 

The man grinned; he had a good-natured face, 
with friendly blue eyes. Ye might call me a 
trapper, I reckon,” he drawled. “ Leastways I do 
sometimes set traps. Glad to meet ye, scouts. My 
name’s Dan Taplow. Come ashore and rest your 
feet a bit.” 

Now none of the three felt that their feet needed 
25 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


resting, but they all felt that they shouldn’t miss an 
opportunity to talk w.ith a real trapper. So they 
accepted his invitation and stepped ashore. 

“ Have a seat,” said Taplow, pointing to a bench, 
made of a piece of wood nailed to the sawed-off 
trunks of a couple of trees. He had stopped his 
whittling, and was filling and lighting a small black 
pipe. “ Out in the woods it comes nateral to pass 
the time o’ day, friendly like. Be you interested in 
animals ? ” 

‘‘ In everything,” promptly answered the Wise 
Guy, nodding his head vigorously. 

The weatherbeaten trapper grinned. You’re 
the living human question-mark, are you, sonny ? ” 

“ Sure he is,” said Rob. ‘‘ Only he generally 
asks the questions and then tells us the answers him- 
self. That’s why he’s called the Wise Guy.” 

“ So that’s his name, is it? ” said Taplow. 
''Well now, Mr. Wise Guy, what was the worst 
animal for the others to fight with in the old days in 
the North Woods; can ye tell me that? ” 

" The bear,” guessed the Wise Guy. " The 
panther,” answered Rob; and Skipper suggested 
" The mountain lion.” 


26 


THE MAN WHO LIVED BY THE LAKE 

Taplow shook his head. “ No. He warn’t a big 
fellow, and he don’t look so dangerous to us, but he 
had a trick o’ leaving part o’ hisself stuck in his 
enemy. Wolf or panther or lynx, eagle or fox or 
anything else that tackled the porcupine, got stuck so 
full o’ quills they couldn’t get ’em out. They’d open 
their mouths to bite, an’ get their throats full o’ 
quills. The quills ’d keep their jaws open, and they’d 
starve. The big fisher weasel is the only critter that 
can down him. He throws him over on his back and 
goes for his smooth belly. It ain’t always size as 
wins out in the woods.” 

“ How do trappers know where to set their 
traps ? ” asked Skipper. 

Taplow scratched his chin. ‘‘ Well, consid’rable 
of the critters are to be found along the little valleys 
of the streams, muskrats and mink, otter and beaver 
and such like. Then those that feed on rabbits and 
mice, such as fox and lynx and marten, come down 
to the little streams for their prey. Beavers leave 
dabs o’ mud to show where they’ve been living, 
wolves have a trick o’ scratching with their hind feet, 
and bears tear the trees with their teeth and claws. 
Every animal leaves his mark if ye’ve got the eyes to 
27 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


see it or the nose to smell it. There’s little signal 
flags all through the woods.” 

It wasn’t often that Dan Taplow had such an 
appreciative audience as the three scouts, and he was 
glad to talk. Have ye ever seen a marten? Now 
there’s a cute one for you. You’d ought to see one 
after a squirrel; scootin’ over the ground fast as 
lightnin’, skimmin’ up the wall of a shanty or out 
on the limb of a tree ; sort o’ like a snake with wings 
it is, so quick and quiet it goes ; and when it takes to 
playin’ tag with a rabbit I put my money on Mr. 
Marten every time.” 

Have you got a marten skin in your cabin? ” 
asked Skipper. 

Taplow shook his head. Nary a skin,” he said. 
He took a few puffs at his pipe. “ But I got some 
things an Injun taught me to make.” He went into 
his shack, and came out with some pans and boxes 
and baskets all made of birch-bark. “ This is where 
Brer Porcupine’s quills come in handy,” said he. 
“ See the embroiderin’ on them boxes ; well, that’s 
all made of quills.” 

“ But the quills are all sorts of colors,” said Rob, 
28 


THE MAN WHO LIVED BY THE LAKE 


examining the birch-bark articles. Did you paint 
them?” 

“ Sure,” answered Taplow, but the paints 
didn’t come from no paint-box you buy at a store; 
they all came out o’ the woods themselves. The 
quills are white, with a needle already made at each 
end of ’em. When you want pink you cut into a 
hemlock tree till you get some o’ the inner pinkish 
bark. You boil that with the quills, and it dyes ’em 
pink. Butternut bark makes brown, alder bark 
makes orange, and oak chips, with some scraps o’ 
iron in the boilin’ water, makes the quills black. You 
get your red from berries, and when you want the 
colors mixed you mix the brews.” 

“ That’s something you didn’t know,” Skipper 
said to the Wise Guy. The latter had taken a little 
note-book from his pocket and was jotting down the 
different trees and colors. 

'' I’ve got some snow-shoes, too, made with ash 
for the frames and thongs of deer skin for the 
cords,” said Taplow. ‘‘ There ain’t hardly anything 
a man needs in the woods but what he can make with 
what’s provided, if he puts his mind to it.” 

29 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


‘‘ What were you going to do with that? asked 
Skipper, pointing at the stick Taplow had been 
whittling when they had come upon him. 

That ? Why, that’s for catchin’ pickerel 
through the ice. That’s the signal-stick. Look 
there.” He pointed out at the little bay that was in 
full view from his shack. 

The scouts saw three round holes cut in the ice, 
with sticks lying across them. Bent on investigating, 
the three boys crossed the ice to the nearest hole, the 
man following them. “ I cut a good-sized hole, you 
see,” explained Taplow. Then I take a light rod 
’bout two feet long, same as this one I’m whittlin’, 
and fasten a piece of white cloth to one end, some- 
thin’ like a flag. This flag-rod is bound with some 
strong string at right-angles to another stick, and 
this other stick is laid across the hole, a couple o’ 
inches sti ekin’ out over the ice to each side. To the 
bottom o’ the flag-rod I ties my line and hook, with 
any sort o’ bait, minnows if I can get ’em in any hole 
where the ice ain’t tight. Now you see the flag-rod 
lies flat down across the other stick, the flag lyin’ out 
on the ice, and the fishline drops through the hole 
from the other end of the flag-stick, the short end. 

30 


THE MAN WHO LIVED BY THE LAKE 


When the fish is hooked he tugs at the line, the line 
pulls the flag-stick, it stands up, and so long as the 
fish stays on, the flag is up an fly in’. They ain’t been 
bitin’ this mornin’, nary a flag’s been up; but some 
days they’re fly in’ every little while.” 



Would you mind showing us some of your traps ? ” 
I kin catch fish,” Taplow answered, ‘‘ but I 
ain’t trappin’ no animals. Leastways not at present,” 
he added apologetically, as if he didn’t want to lose 
the boys’ good opinion of him. ‘‘You see, all this 
31 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


land along the lake belongs to Mr. Satterlee, who’s 
got a big house just this side o’ the village. He’s a 
rich man from New York, who puts in part o’ his 
winters here. He don’t want the animals touched, 
there was enough killed afore he came here ; and so 
he has me keep an eye on the woods. It’s a big tract 
to cover, so I’ve got my shack down here near the 
middle, where I kin see both ways. I reckon you 
might say I was a Game Warden, but I don’t keer 
for no such high-soimdin’ name.” 

“ But you know as much about trapping as if you 
really were one? ” said the Wise Guy. 

I reckon I know most everything about the 
business, from treein’ coons to stalkin’ moose. If 
you’re ever in doubt about a pint o’ woodcraft just 
call on Dan’l Taplow.” He shook hands with each 
of the boys. “ Glad to see you any day at my house, 
Mr. Scouts.” 

The three said good-morning, and sped away 
over the ice. The sim, however, as well as their 
appetites, warned them that it must be nearly time 
for dinner, and that they had better postpone their 
visit to the village. They turned about and went 
south, and before long found themselves right in 
32 


THE MAN WHO LIVED BY THE LAKE 


the middle of a hockey game on the ice in front of 
the camp. 

“ Get out of the way ! ’’ yelled a couple of the 
skaters. 

“ Break it up, fellows ! cried Skipper, and mak- 
ing a dart for the puck he caught it so neatly with 
his staff that he sent it flying across the ice to the 
bank. “ How’s that ? ” he cried. Some class to 
that!” 

Three of the nearer players caught hold of him 
and carried him, struggling, to a big pile of snow, 
into which they dropped him.. “ Eat all the snow 
ice-cream you like,” said one. “ Serves you right. 
Skipper.” 

The latter got to his feet, looking like a snow- 
man. Well, we know a lot more than you fellows 
do, anyhow,” he declared. “ We’ve been talking 
with a real trapper. Haven’t we. Wise Guy?” 

The Wise Guy, however, was too busy to answer. 
He was sitting on a stump in the clearing before 
the lodge, making notes in his little book of Taplow’s 
fishing signals, before he should forget them. 


3 


Ill 

THE SKATE-SAILERS 

That afternoon Mr. Grafton and Mr. Robins 
carried a lot of mysterious articles from the store- 
house cabin down to the lake. The Scout-master 
said that he had the makings of a number of skate- 
sails there, and began to put the different articles 
together. Most of the sails are triangular,’’ he 
said; “we found them the easiest to handle. We 
cut some of the long spars that hold the sails in two 
and three pieces, so we could pack them more easily, 
and we fasten ’em together with joints of the ordi- 
nary thin steel tubing you can get at any hardware 
shop.” 

He fastened three of the sticks together to form 
one spar, and two to form another. Then he laid 
them on the ice, and picked up a triangular piece of 
canvas, one length of which was three or four feet 
longer than he was tall. “The simplest way to 
34 


THE SKATE-SAILERS 


stretch the sail on the spars/’ he went on, is to have 
a wide hem or pocket along each edge of the sail, and 
slip the spar into that pocket. You see there are eye- 
lets in the corners of the sail, and the hems have 
pieces cut out midway of their length. I fasten 
strings at the ends of the spars and tie them through 
the eyelets, and these pieces that are cut out of the 
hem let me get at the joints and give me a way to 
fasten the stretcher. There are a lot of other ways 
of putting on the sails, more elaborate ways, with 
snaphooks and buckles, but I’ve always found this 
way would serve my purpose.” 

Kneeling on the ice he ran the spars through the 
hems of the sails, and fastened them together at the 
apex with strings. Then he picked up another stick, 
about as long as he was tall. This is the stretcher,” 
he explained. It had a crotch at each end that fitted 
over the spars near their joints. A doubled strap, 
fastened to the spar in front of the stretcher, with a 
snaphook that caught into a ring on the stretcher, 
served to help pull the stretcher forward and so 
stretch the sail by pushing the spajs wide apart. 
“ You see the object of this is,” Mr. Grafton ex- 
plained, to be able to stretch the sail tight at first, 
35 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


and then to take up any slackness from time to time 
without too much trouble/’ He took up a small light 
stick. The sail is really held by the upper spar 
and the stretcher,” he added, but it’s easier to hold 
if a fourth light stick is fastened across from the 
stretcher to the upper spar.” So saying, he fastened 
this stick in place, about the middle of the stretcher, 
and projecting back so that it made a handle. 

Meantime Mr. Robins was busy rigging what he 
called a square ” sail, though it was neither square 
nor rectangular, but shaped like a giant kite, with a 
flat bottom, sides slanting outward, and a flat top. 
Following directions, the boys worked on other sails, 
and soon twelve were ready for use. 

Putting on their skates, Mr. Grafton took a 
triangular sail, and Mr. Robins a square one, and 
each started out on the ice. There was a good wind 
blowing, and ten of the scouts were soon skate-sail- 
ing on the lake. Phil and Skipper, each with triangu- 
lar sails, followed after the Scout-master. He called 
out directions from time to time, and after a little 
experimenting, they soon got the hang of the game. 
The sail was always kept on the same side of the 
36 


THE SKATE-SAH^ERS 


skater, so that on one tack it would be to windward 
and on the other tack to leeward. To go about, the 
skater simply had to turn up into the wind. 



Dick Warner was trying one of the square sails. 
That kind of sail always had to be carried to wind- 
ward, and when he wanted to go about he had to 
S7 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


pass it over his head, which was a little harder and 
took more time than it did to go about with the other 
sails. To make up for that, however, he found that 
he rested it on his shoulder, and leaning back against 
it, was practically held up by it. On the other hand, 
the triangular sail had to be held up by the skater's 
hands, and on half of the tacks was really pulling 
away, so that it was more tiring to carry. 

All the scouts soon found that it didn’t take much 
practice for them to steer a good course and go skim- 
ming over the ice much faster than they had ever 
done on their own feet. The hockey skates served 
as both keel and rudder. Puffs of wind could easily 
be felt and taken advantage of, and cracks and rough 
ice quickly avoided. At first some of them found 
themselves sailing up the bank into bushes and trees 
at unexpected gusts of wind, but they soon learned 
to steer, and also to follow the Scout-master’s advice. 
When you can’t manage the sail, let go of it. It’ll 
sail off by itself, without making you any trouble.” 

Presently Dick Warner, with his square sail, 
and Skipper, with a triangular one, found themselves 
heading down the lake, borne along by a good steady 
breeze. Dick leaned against his big sail, letting it 
38 


THE SKATE SAH^ERS 


propel him, while Skipper, quick at learning any- 
thing having to do with sailing, shifted his smaller 
canvas to meet every change in the wind, as a good 
sailor handles a catboat, and actually managed to 
gain a lead over Dick, in spite of the difference in 
the size of their sails. Such racing was great sport, 
and they kept on and on, until they found the lake 
making a bend, something like the curve in a hockey- 
stick, and had to shift their sails to another angle. 

See how those trees almost hide that little 
bay,'’ said Dick, and slanting his sail a little more 
away from the wind he skimmed over to what must 
have been a splendid harbor for canoes in summer. 
Trees partly hid a loop of ice and made a very invit- 
ing snug retreat. With the wind cut off by the trees 
he skated to the shore and rested his sail on the bank, 
Skipper following him. 

‘‘ Looks as if somebody else had found this place 
before us,” said Dick, pointing to where the snow 
was trodden down into a narrow path. 

H'm,” said Skipper, nodding. “ What do you 
suppose brings anyone to this lonely spot? And not 
on snow-shoes or skis, but in heavy boots, with good 
big hobnails in them.” 


39 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 

Let’s have a look at the trail,” suggested Dick. 
He took off his skates, and carrying them and his 
sail a short distance from the path, leaned the sail 
against a tree, where it was partly hidden by the 
underbrush, and fastened his skates by their straps 
in the crotch of a birch. Meantime Skipper was hid- 
ing his skates and sail on the other side of the path. 

They went single-file through the woods, care^ 
ful to make as little noise as possible, avoiding step^ 
ping on twigs that would snap like glass, and keeping 
a sharp watch for anything unusual. Dick spied a 
track on the snow made of two good-sized marks 
side by side and two smaller ones lengthwise behind, 
and declared that it was the trail of a cottontail, and 
they saw bird tracks, the little feather-like branch- 
ing prints with the tiny dots behind them. Then 
Dick stopped and pointed to a small clearing on their 
right. Pieces of steel glistened in the faint winter 
sunlight that filtered through the woods. ‘‘ A fox 
trap,” he whispered. ‘H’ve seen ’em before.” 

The path went on for a good half-mile more be- 
fore it was crossed by a wire, which, running diag- 
onally and fastened from tree to tree, seemed to 
40 


THE SKATE-SAILERS 


indicate a boundary line. The two scouts stepped 
over the wire and continued along the path, and after 
a few minutes’ walk came to a good-sized log-cabin. 

There was no one about the cabin, no smoke 
came from the chimney, the door was fastened by 
a big padlock. Nobody here,” said Dick, after 
they had looked on all sides of the cabin. But 
somebody was here not very long ago,” said Skipper, 
as he picked up a few fresh-cut chips of wood and 
some apple parings that lay curled up on the snow. 

Further search brought nothing new, however, 
and as it was now beginning to grow rather dark in 
the woods the boys decided it was time to take the 
back-trail. They climbed over the wire fence, found 
the fox-trap and left it again, and had almost reached 
the lake when they heard the crunching of snow not 
very far from them. They stopped, waiting to see 
what would follow. A man came round a bend in 
the path, a big fellow, with a bearskin hood over his 
head and tied under his chin. He saw the boys and 
stopped. What are you doin’ here? ” he growled, 
in tones very much like those of the animal whose 
skin he wore. ' 


41 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 

WeTe on our way back to our camp up the 
lake/’ answered Dick, pleasantly enough. 

‘‘ Where you been ? ” the man demanded, step- 
ping a little closer and peering at them through the 
dusk. Then, without waiting for an answer, he 
raised his fist and shook it at them. This here’s a 
private trail,” said he, ‘‘ and I don’t want none o’ 
you snoopin’ round. There’s plenty o’ room in the 
woods without you cornin’ down to my part of ’em. 
Understand? ” With that he pushed his way by the 
boys and went on, the snow crunching loudly under 
his heavy weight. 

Well,” said Skipper, “ he is a pleasant fellow, 
isn’t he? Guess he must have been living too long 
among the wolves. You might think we’d been hurt- 
ing this private path of his. Hurry up, Dick. I 
want to make sure he didn’t eat our skates.” 

The skates were safe in the tree, and so were 
the sails. The wind had by now died down, so that 
the scouts had to carry the sails rather than have 
the sails carry them. This took some time, so that 
when they reached the bank in front of the lodge it 
was quite dark. Two boys, however, were still out 
42 


THE SKATE-SAILERS 


on the ice, Max Talbot and the Wise Guy, and they 
were both practising the grapevine. 

“ Look at this,^’ called Max, and making a beauti- 
ful sweep he suddenly sat down and slid a dozen 
feet. 

Watch me, I invented this,’’ cried the Wise 
Guy. He made one stroke, jumped about, skated 
backward, jumped again, and fell on his hands and 
knees. 

“ Well,” said Skipper loftily, I don’t see much 
to look at. Anybody can fall on the ice.” 

Dick dropped his big square sail on the bank. 
‘‘We found a bear in the woods,” he said, “ a 
human bear ; and he was as sore about our finding his 
path as a dog is about a bone.” 

“ It’s my opinion,” put in Skipper, “ that he was 
the original Bad Man from the Bad Lands over 
back of Wicked Mountain.” 

“ He might have been a hermit,” suggested the 
Wise Guy, who had picked himself up and was rub- 
bing his sore knees. 

“ He might have been a pirate,” snorted Skipper. 
“ I wish you’d seen him. Wise Guy; I’ll bet you’d 
have detected what his trouble was.” 


43 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 

“ Bet I would,” answered the Wise Guy, stoutly. 

Oh, stop your arguing,” said Max, and save 
your tongues for supper.” 

Sails and skates were put in the storehouse- 
cabin, and the scouts got busy with their duties for 
the night. The troop ate even more supper that 
evening than they had the night before. Then came 
the talk-hour before the roaring fire. 

The Buffalo Patrol cabin was warm when the 
scouts turned in for the night. Skipper climbed up 
to his bunk, and then stuck his head over the edge 
to look at the Wise Guy beneath him. ‘‘Tell you 
who I think that crusty fellow was,” he said. “ I 
think he was Captain Kidd, afraid we’d find his hid- 
den treasure.” 

The Wise Guy blinked like an owl. “ Oh, stop 
your kidding me,” he muttered. 

“For the love of Mike!” exclaimed Skipper. 
“ That’s the worst I ever heard I ” 

“ But it’s not the worst you will hear if you keep 
talking to me,” said the other. “ I want to invent 
a trap to catch porcupines, and I think I can work it 
out better when I’m asleep.” 


44 


IV 

FIRST AID TO THE INJURED 

There was need of getting fresh milk and a few 
other provisions the next morning, and it fell to the 
Buffalo Patrol to go to the village for them. So 
Philip, the leader, and Rob and Skipper and Max 
and the Wise Guy and Johnny Phelps and Sam 
Potter and Peter Swan, who was always called 
Duck,’’ set out over the ice. The eight had drawn 
lots to see who should take charge of the sled for 
the provisions, and Rob was the one to draw it for 
the north-bound trip. The sled was very light, how- 
ever, and didn’t interfere with his skating in the 
least, so that the patrol skated fast. When they 
came to the point where Dan Taplow’s shack stood, 
hidden by trees, the three scouts who had met him 
looked for smoke above the pines, but saw none. 
Rob, skating closest to the western shore, looked 
to see if any of the little fishing-flags were flying, but 
it appeared the fish were not biting. With fine long 
45 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 

swinging strokes the scouts travelled on to the musi- 
cal ring of steel on ice. 

The village of Saulsbury was a very small place, 
most of it built along the road which ran at the side 
of the lake. Out from this road branched several 
lanes leading to scattered groups of houses. The 
post-office, which was the general store and the town 
meeting-place as well, was the largest building, and 
stood about midway of the village. The scouts 
skated up opposite to the store, took off their skates, 
and marched up the bank. On the porch before the 
store stood a tall man with a chin beard, who looked 
very much like the pictures of Uncle Sam. He 
seemed to be sunning himself in the fine air. 

Morning,’' said the man, nodding to the boys. 

How’s the weather down your way ? ” 

Couldn’t be better,” answered Philip, and went 
into the store, followed by Rob and three of the 
others. 

I heard tell you’d come to the camp down yon- 
der,” said the man. Dan Taplow said you was a 
pretty good lot, ‘ slick as a pin,’ he says, and he’s a 
pretty good judge of nature, animal or human. Do 
you play baseball ? I once throwed a ball clean across 
46 


FIRST AID TO THE INJURED 


the lake down by the narrows/' He smiled with a 
certain pride. ‘‘Where d’you come from?" he 
asked, looking at Skipper. 

“ My home's in New York," Skipper answered. 

The man stroked his chin beard. “ Well, I've 
been down to New York, but take it all in all, I like 
Saulsbury better. So many houses make me feel 
kinder lonely, when I don't know the folks that live 
in 'em. Up in the woods you know what's going 
on, inside the houses as well as out; but down to 
New York you don't hardly know what you’re 
doing yourself. It makes you feel terrible ignorant." 

“ But there's lots to learn there," said the Wise 
Guy, who always wanted to argue. “ And there's 
so much to do." 

The man looked solemnly out across the lake, 
nodding his head thoughtfully, as if he liked to con- 
sider a point from all sides. “ But there's a lot to 
learn here too," he said, “ more than any man could 
ever learn. And as for doing things I reckon I've 
done more things than most any man in New York. 
I've been a blacksmith and a farmer and agent for 
mowing-machines and school teacher and run a 
stage-coach and sold real estate and preached in the 
47 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


church when there weren’t no regular parson. So 
you see there’s two sides to most every argyment.” 
He grinned at the Wise Guy, who was eying him in 
amazement. ‘‘ Well, I must be going. Stop in to 
see me some day, second house out on the road to 
Satterlee’s. My name’s Ezra Whipple.” 

The boys watched him walk down the road. 

Golly,” said the Wise Guy, it does seem as if 
he’d been everything but a tight-rope walker ! ” 
Next minute Philip and the others came out of 
the store with the milk cans and other supplies. 
Then they drew lots to see which two should take 
the provisions back on the sled, and the lots fell to 
Max and Sam Potter. When those two had started 
for camp the others set out bn a tour of exploration. 

There wasn’t a great deal to explore in Saulsbury, 
there didn’t even seem to be a moving-picture theatre. 
They met a few people, who smiled and nodded at 
them, but after passing about a dozen houses they 
found themselves in the open country again. A little 
farther on a hill sloped down toward the head of the 
lake, covered with snow and dazzling in the sunlight. 

Don’t I wish I had a pair of skis ! ” cried Duck. 

48 


FIEST AID TO THE INJURED 


I’d get going so fast coming down that hill I’d 
jump clean across the lake ! ” 

The head of the lake made a large loop. As the 
scouts looked out across it they saw an ice-boat skim- 
ming over the frozen surface, her sail catching the 
sun every minute or so. She was like a giant 
darning-needle zig-zagging over a pond in summer. 
The skipper seemed to be making experiments; he 
tacked, he sailed close in the wind, he let her run full 
Speed down the lake. It was fascinating to watch 
the light, swift-moving thing, and the scouts stood 
on the shore, following its course eagerly. 

Then something happened; the sailor tried to 
come about too quickly or the ice-boat struck a big 
seam, the scouts were too far away to tell just what 
it was. They saw the boat tip, crash, and go skid- 
ding along, driven some distance by its own momen- 
tum before it came to a stop. '' Come along ! ” cried 
Philip; and almost as soon as he said it the scouts 
had their skates on and were dashing over the ice 
to the wreck near the other bank. 

When they reached the ice-boat they found her 
skipper partly caught under her. He had been 
dragged along, bumped and bruised ; blood was flow- 
4 49 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


ing from a cut on his forehead, but he was conscious 
and his eyes were open. Four scouts lifted the ice- 
boat from his pinioned leg, careful not to jar him. 
Then Philip and Rob very carefully turned him, so 
that he lay on his back. He grunted, and moved 
his bruised leg gingerly. I don’t think it’s broken,” 
he muttered. 

Philip took his first-aid packet from his pocket, 
swabbed the blood from the cut on the man’s fore- 
head, put fresh cotton over the wound and fastened 
it with a couple of strips of adhesive plaster. 

Could you get me up on the bank? ” the man 
asked. He was a big fellow, but the six scouts lifted 
him easily and carried him to shore. Three of them 
stripped off their coats for him to lie on. 

In a few minutes the man sat up, and felt of his 
leg and knee and shoulder. “ Guess I’m mostly 
black and blue,” he said, with a wry smile, “ but I’m 
lucky not to have a broken neck. ‘Hf one of you 
fellows would go to the post-office and get ’em to 
’phone to Mr. Satterlee’s house for a sleigh, I’d be 
much obliged. They can get a sleigh down this side 
through the woods, and I don’t feel up to walking.” 

Johnny Phelps went on this errand, while Rob 

50 


FIRST AID TO THE INJURED 


and the Wise Guy brought the ice-boat up to the 
bank. Meantime the wounded man was telling 
Philip and the others that his name was Satterlee 
and that he lived about half-a-mile back of Saulsbury, 
and Philip was telling him in return that their troop 
of scouts was camped at Snow-Shoe Lodge down the 
lake. 

After a time Johnny Phelps returned, having de- 
livered his message, and after more time the sleigh 
arrived. Mr. Satterlee was feeling better now, and 
urged the scouts to go to his house and have lunch 
with him. ‘‘We ought to send word to camp where 
we are,’’ said Philip. “ We’ll draw lots to see who’s 
messenger. Shortest gets it.” He held six twigs 
in his hand, and the scouts drew them. Skipper 
drew the shortest, and so was elected messenger. 

They helped Mr. Satterlee into the sleigh, and 
took up their line of march back of him. The wood- 
road wound round the head of the lake, and then they 
went up sloping country^ Presently they saw a big 
stone house with a tower before them. “ It looks 
just like a castle,” said Rob. Mr. Satterlee over- 
heard him. “ That’s what I call it,” he said. “ The 


51 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


Castle. There’s the finest view from the top of that 
tower for miles around.” 

The sleigh turned in between two gate-posts 
made of boulders, and drove up to the front door. 
From the wide brick terrace they looked down over 
the slope that Duck had said he would like to ski 
over and saw the lake spread out like a wonderful 
map before them. A man-servant helped Mr. 
Satterlee out of the sleigh, and they all went into 
the Castle. There the scouts found themselves in a 
great hall, with an enormous fireplace at the farther 
end and big logs burning brightly. 

‘‘ Set the table for six,” said the owner of the 
Castle to his man. “If you’ll excuse me I’ll go up- 
stairs and try to make myself more comfortable.” 

There were heads and skins of many animals in 
the hall, there were curious things from many coun- 
tries to examine, and the scouts were kept busy with 
them until the owner joined them again. '‘No bones 
broken,” he said, " but I was right about the black 
and blue. And I guess I’ll have to wear this bandage 
for a week or two. I’ve got some guests coming to 
visit me soon, and I’ll have to make up some fine yarn 


52 


FIRST AID TO THE INJURED 


about how I got such a wound. It wouldn’t do to 
let ’em know I was simply a bum ice-boat skipper. 
How about some food ? ” 

“ It’s ready, sir,” said the servant. 

Right-o,” said Mr. Satterlee. Now let’s see if 
you scouts are as good trenchermen as you are res- 
cuers.” He led the way into the dining-room, which 
fronted on the terrace, and had the same fine view. 

Luckily the larder of the Castle was always well 
stocked, for the scouts came up to Mr. Satterlee’s 
best expectations of their appetites, and kept his 
cook and serving-man busier than they had been in 
weeks. When they were not eating they were gener- 
ally talking, telling their host about the troop and its 
trip through the mountains the summer before, and 
asking him for information about the lake and the 
country round it. They found that, although he 
came from New York, he really considered the 
Castle his home, owned a large tract of land along 
the lake, and spent a considerable part of each sum- 
mer and winter there. 

When the last piece of apple pie had disappeared 
Mr. Satterlee opened one of the long windows that 


53 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


gave on to the terrace and stepped out there. You 
can’t quite see the flag-pole in front of your camp,” 
he said to Philip, “ but you almost can. Isn’t that a 
crackerjack view? Sometimes in summer I almost 
think I can see the fish swimming down in the lake.” 

He was showing Philip where he planned to make 
a toboggan slide on the eastern slope of his hill when 
Rob gave a loud war-whoop. Look,” he cried, 
pointing down at the lake, ‘‘ there’s a scout waving 
a signal-flag ! It’s news for the patrol ! ” He darted 
indoors, and came flying back, bringing his staff and 
a napkin he had snatched up from the dinner-table. 

Meantime the other boys had waved their arms 
to the scout on the lake to show him that he was seen. 
Rob now tied the napkin to the end of his staff so 
that it made a good-sized white flag, and stepping to 
the front of the terrace, swung the flag in a great 
circle to indicate that he was ready to take the other 
scout’s message. 

Mr. Satterlee had stepped into the house and 
brought out a pair of field-glasses, which he handed 
to Philip. A wave to the right,” announced 
Philip, reading the signals aloud, wave to the left, 
54 



ROB SWUNG THE FLAG IN A GREAT CIRCLE 



FIRST AID TO THE INJURED 


wave to the right, a pause : that’s letter F. Two to 
the right, pause: that’s I. One left, one right — N. 
Left, right, right — D. Flag in front; end of a 
word, F-I-N-D.” 

The scout down on the lake continued his signal- 
ling, and Philip went on reading off the letters. 
‘‘ T-R-A-I-L,” he interpreted, and then “ A-T.” The 
sender evidently got the next word spelled wrong, 
for half-way through it he stopped and sent the 
message A A front, after which he began again, and 
signalled T-A-P-L-O-W-S.” Then came the flag 
in front, and then word ‘‘ C-O-M-E.” Then the 
flag signaled front three times in succession. 

“ That’s the end of the message,” said Philip. 

‘ Find trail at Taplow’s. Come.’ Does anybody 
know where Taplow’s is?” 

“ Oh, yes,” spoke up the Wise Guy, “ it’s between 
the village and camp. We stopped there yesterday.” 

Then, Rob,” said Philip, ‘‘ send back M M 
front. That means we understand his message,” he 
explained to Mr. Satterlee. 

Rob made two waves to the left with his flag, 

paused, then sent two more waves to the left, and 
55 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


then brought the flag to front. Thereupon the scout 
on the lake turned around and went skating off down 
the ice. 

“ That means we must be going/^ Philip said to 
Mr. Satterlee. The troop’s off on a hike some- 
where, and the Buffalo Patrol’s got to pick up the 
trail at Taplow’s cabin. We’ve enjoyed lunch here 
ever so much, and I hope you’ll make us a visit at 
Snow-Shoe Lodge very soon.” 

‘‘ I’d like to,” said their genial host, ‘‘ but I don’t 
think I’ll come in an ice-boat for several days. The 
thanks are all on my side. I don’t know how long it 
might have taken me to crawl across that ice if you 
scouts hadn’t come to the rescue.” 

He shook hands with each of the five boys, telling 
them they must come up to the Castle again and try 
the skiing on his hill. Then the scouts returned to 
the big hall, where they had left their caps and sweat- 
ers and skates, and in five minutes they were run- 
ning and sliding and slipping down the road to 
Saulsbury, their scouting spirit roused, and eager to 
pick up the trail at Taplow’s cabin. 


V 

THE TROOP ON THE HIKE 
Rob and the Wise Guy showed the others the 
way to Taplow’s shack. The door stood open in 
friendly fashion, but the owner was not at home. A 
brief glance about showed the scouts that the rest of 
the troop must have taken the wood-road, which 
was fairly well tramped down, since the snow was 
deep in all other places and it would have been very 
easy to see if anyone had tried to make his way 
through it. They looked for some sign along the 
road, and after a minute Johnny Phelps called them 
over to where an arrow was plainly drawn in the 
snow. That showed which direction they should 
take, and they set out immediately, keeping their 
eyes wide open for any other marks on the snow. 

Each scout carried a narrow leather strap, long 
enough to make a belt, and buckling this about the 
waist they stuck their skates into it, which held them 
tight against their jackets. Presently the Wise Guy, 
57 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


who was marching second in line, stopped and pointed 
with his staflf to some tracks in the snow, three little 
lines meeting in a point, with a dot behind them. 
There were always two of these marks, side by side. 

Now what sort of animal made those?” he de- 
manded. ‘‘ There’s an easy one for you.” 

No kind of an animal,” said Duck. They’re 
too small. It must have been a bird.” 

An owl,” suggested Johnny Phelps. ‘‘ A 
crow,” proposed Philip. ‘‘ Bet you don’t know 
yourself,” said Rob, but I’ll take a chance on it’s 
being a quail.” 

That’s the one kind it couldn’t be,” answered 
the Wise Guy, very haughtily. When the tracks 
run along side by side, as if the bird were hopping, 
that means a tree-bird. When they go one back of 
another, zig-zagging, that means a ground-bird like 
a quail. They’re hopping, not running. This was 
a tree-bird of some kind. See, look over there, that 
might be a quail.” He pointed to other lines at a 
little distance, made alternately, and not in pairs. 

“ Take your word for it,” said Duck. I sup- 
pose birds that live in trees don’t get much chance 
to come down to the ground and learn to run prop- 
58 


THE TROOP ON THE HIKE 


erly. Say, where’d you learn so much about bird- 
tracks ? ’’ 

‘‘ Well, my boy,” said the Wise Guy, puffing out 
his chest, you see it was like this. I spilled a can 
of red paint on the lawn at home, and put some big 
sheets of wrapping-paper all round it. A robin 
hopped into the paint, and a sparrow, and some blue- 
birds, and then they left their marks on the paper. 
That gave me a chance to study the matter, and Fve 
been pursuing it ever since. Nothing like keeping 
your eyes open, you know.” 

‘‘ Sounds like one of those yarns the sailors tell 
you down at Gloucester, about how they used to 
catch sea-serpents by singing to them,” said Duck. 

Well,” retorted the Wise Guy, “ what I told 
you about the bird-tracks is right, whether you be- 
lieve the story of the red paint or not.” He poked 
his staff into Philip’s back. Get up, or it’ll be dark 
before we strike the troop.” 

They went at a jog-trot along the road until they 
came to a fork. Here they had to stop to look for 
the trail. In a minute or two Duck found it, an 
arrow in the snow by the left-hand road, with the 
outline of an animal beside it. That’s the way 

59 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


Skipper always draws a buffalo/’ said Rob. I’ve 
told him a hundred times it looks more like a jelly- 
fish with legs than a buffalo, but it doesn’t make any 
difference to him.” 

Let’s see if we’re anywhere near ’em,” said 
Philip. Now.” 

The five scouts made a noise that was supposed 
toi resemble the lowing of a buffalo, but which 
sounded much more like a long rumbling grunt. 
They repeated the Patrol signal four times, but got 
no answer except the crack of ice on a neighboring 
pond, where some small animal, frightened at such 
a strange noise, might have been hurriedly seeking 
shelter. 

Well,” said Philip, I’m sure any respectable 
buffalo would recognize that noise as the lowing of 
a herd. Come on, my brave boys ; it’s clear at any 
rate that Skipper’s been along here.” 

This fork of the road was not as easy travelling 
as the other. Wagons had not been over it for some 
time, underbrush encroached on both sides, briars 
stuck out, and occasionally a tree lay stretched across 
it. The scouts went as quietly as they could, careful 
60 


THE TROOP ON THE HIKE 


not to break a frozen stick or twig, which would 
snap loudly in the still air, and leaving sufficient dis- 
tances between them so that no bush, pushed aside 
by one boy, should hit the scout coming next. 

A little more than a mile of this road brought 
them out of the woods into a meadow. On the other 
side of the meadow stood a frame house. Again 
they found an arrow pointing across the field, and 
with a whispered word to keep as quiet as possible 
Philip led them over a fairly-well trodden path to 
the building. When they reached it they went up 
the steps to the front door, which they found locked, 
circled the house outside, poked their way into some 
clumps of high bushes that stood close behind the 
house, but, although the snow had evidently been 
recently trodden down all about the place, they found 
no one there now. 

Buffalo call again ! ” commanded Philip ; and 
again the five scouts gave their patrol call. Almost 
at once they heard it answered from the woods to 
the west. In a few minutes Max and Skipper and 
Sam Potter appeared and came ploughing through 
the unbroken snow of the field. 


61 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


Where’s the rest of the troop? ’’ Philip asked 
Max, who was the first of the three to reach the 
porch. 

“ Well, we all came here; and then we decided 
each patrol should take a different direction and see 
what they could find in an hour’s time. We’re all 
to meet at camp. We thought you were never com- 
ing, so we’ve been snooping about for ourselves.” 

Did you find anything? ” 

‘‘ There’s a pond a little ways off, I just caught 
a glimpse of it through the trees.” 

Beavers went south. Blue Herons north, and 
Buffalos are to go west; get the lay of the land, and 
be back at Snow-Shoe Lodge as near to half-past 
five as they can,” announced Skipper. “ Better be 
off pretty quick on Max’s trail, he says he saw a 
pond.” Then, as the other scouts ran down the steps 
and started off after Max, Skipper caught the Wise 
‘Guy by the tail of his coat. Hold on,” he mur- 
mured, want to show you something.” He winked 
and nodded his head very mysteriously. 

As soon as the others were out of sight Skipper 
led the Wise Guy around the house to where a box 
stood under a window. “ Step up here,” he said, 
62 


THE TROOP ON THE HIKE 


‘‘there’s room for us both; and look inside.” He 
stepped up, and, shading his eyes with his hands, 
peered through the window, while the Wise Guy 
imitated him. 

There were some boxes and barrels in the room 
they were looking into, and a table at one side was 
covered with what looked like animal skins. There 
might have been a dozen of these dull, dark objects. 
“ Now I’ve got something else to show you,” mut- 
tered Skipper, in the same mysterious manner he 
had shown before. 

This time he led the Wise Guy through the bushes 
back of the house to an opening in the woods where 
two poles had been driven into the ground, a rope 
fastened from one to the other, and a row of skins 
hung across the rope. The Wise Guy’s eyes shone 
delightedly. “ Skins ! ” he whispered. “ Hung out 
to dry in the sun.” 

Skipper nodded. “ Yes, skins. And what kind 
of skins? I’ll bet you they’re beaver,” he said 
quickly, as if afraid the other might guess that 
answer before he had a chance to say it. 

The Wise Guy gave a long whistle. “ So we’ve 
found the haunt. of a real trapper! ” he exclaimed, 
63 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


half aloud. Real true little old North Woods trap- 
per; now what d'you think of that?’' 

“ They don’t know anything about this,” whis- 
pered Skipper, jerking his thumb in the direction the 
other scouts had gone. ‘‘ Mum’s the word, you know. 
I told you so I could have some one to talk it over 
with. Our little secret, understand ? ” 

‘‘ Course I do,” said the Wise Guy, and the 
first interesting thing I discover I’ll tell you, 
Skipper.” He looked up at the line of pelts. I 
guess those beaver-skins’ll bring a pretty good price 
in the market for somebody,” he added. 

“ Come along now, before the others find we’re 
missing,” said Skipper, and he hurried to the path 
Max had taken through the woods. Following this 
a short distance they came to the edge of a pond. 
The ice did not look very thick here, and the prints 
in the snow showed that the other scouts had circled 
the bank to the right. 

The two took this same trail, and had not gone 
far when they came upon the others watching a 
very interesting spectacle. A little ahead of them 
bubbling springs in the bank of the pond had made 
open water. Here was a good-sized hole, and in it 

64 


THE TROOP ON THE HIKE 


there appeared the broad, flat head of an animal that 
was unmistakably a beaver. As the scouts watched 
they saw him swim around the hole, sniff, and then, 
with hardly the sound of a ripple, climb up on to the 
bank in the direction of an aspen that showed marks 
on its trunk where this beaver or others of his family 
had been busy gnawing it. He reached the tree and 
began his sawing in a most business-like manner. 
Then one of the scouts happened to press his foot 
on a twig, the twig snapped, the beaver caught the 
sound, and in a flash was down the bank and safely 
hidden in the open water. 

He's a pretty good carpenter," said Philip, as 
they looked closely at the aspen where the beaver 
had been at work. ‘‘ Takes his exercise chopping 
down trees," observed Max. “ He certainly did get 
back into his bath-tub quick," laughed Rob. The 
Wise Guy nudged Skipper. Pretty convenient to 
t'other place," he whispered behind his hand. 

From the beaver pool the scouts went on around 
the pond, breaking their way through the thicket of 
bushes and brambles. At several places they saw 
trees near the bank that bore marks of recent sawing 
by small teeth, but they didn't come upon another 

5 65 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


beaver. In fact they made so much noise as they 
forced their path through the underbrush that no 
self-respecting wild animal would have stayed within 
fifty yards of them. 

The other end of the pond brought them into 
thick woods again, and from here, making use of the 
compass that Philip always carried in his pocket, 
they tried to figure out a straight line back to camp. 
There was not so much snow here as in some of the 
open places, but there was quite enough, and they 
sometimes had to flounder through drifts and often 
to make wide detours from the direct path shown 
by the compass. The woods were growing dark, 
and although the snow gave a certain light, Philip 
found himself walking into trees more than once. 
Every little while they stopped for a rest, always 
pushing on more briskly for the short breathing- 
space. 

Then Philip spied an open space ahead. Camp 
ahoy ! ’’ he cried. Come on, fellows ! ” The Buf- 
faloes made a splendid spurt and dashed intO' the 
clearing before the cabins. There was no one to 
be seen around the lodge, but the sound of voices 
came from the kitchen. 


66 


THE TKOOP ON THE HIKE 


Philip looked in at the kitchen-door. Hi there, 
Sandy ! ” he called. I see you Blue Herons got 
back all right; but what’s become of the Beavers? ” 
Shoo fly,” answered Sandy, don’t you bother 
us. We’re cooking a bang-up supper.” 

Philip looked at his watch. ‘‘ Well, it’s after 
six, and I’ve a notion those poor Beavers are floun- 
dering around in the woods. Suppose I give ’em a 
sound of the horn.” He took the comet from its 
peg on the wall, and going out-doors blew a blast 
that might have been heard for miles in the still air. 
He waited a few minutes and blew again. 

In reply there came a whistle off in the woods. 
Philip answered with the comet, and soon the Beaver 
Patrol arrived, all eagerly explaining that their tour 
of exploration had brought them to a wide marsh, 
and that they had had to make a big circle about it, 
which had taken a lot of time. 

Mr. Grafton and the Blue Herons had been busy 
from the minute they reached camp, and the result 
was shown in the sausages and buckwheat cakes, the 
spinach croquettes, the corn-bread, and the apple 
dumplings that made their appearance in turn on the 
supper-tables. I don’t mind admitting,” said Dick, 
67 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


as he helped himself to his fourth slice of corn-bread, 
that the Blue Herons are just about the finest cooks 
that ever came to the North Woods. The Beavers 
can beat ’em at baseball or at hockey, but when it 
comes to cooking we just naturally have to take off 
our hats to ’em.” 

When the tables were cleared away and fresh 
logs were thrown on the fire the scouts made them- 
selves comfortable on rugs and cushions before the 
wide hearth, and then each of the three patrol leaders 
in turn, Philip, Sandy Simmons, and Dick, told 
what their patrol had learned about the country back 
from the lake. Philip told of the pond, the springs 
along its bank, the beaver at work, and their hike 
through the woods. I think we ought to call it 
Beaver Pond,” he suggested, ‘‘ though the Buffaloes 
did find it.” Skipper, looking over at the Wise Guy, 
who was sitting on the other side of the hearth, 
winked, and the Wise Guy returned the signal three 
times, to show that he fully understood. 

Dick told how the Beavers had come out on a 
road that had led them over a hill from which they 
got a wide view of rolling country to the west. Then 
they had turned south and come to a marsh. There 
68 


THE TROOP ON THE HIKE 


was no doubting that it was a marsh, for each of the 
patrol had tried it and each had got his feet well wet. 
They had skirted the marsh, and then struck through 
the forest for their own lake. 

The Blue Herons, according to Sandy Simmons, 
had come to a stream which they had crossed by 
making a bridge of two logs. They had followed the 
stream for perhaps a mile, and then had found them- 
selves near the southern end of the lake. They had 
met a man on snow-shoes, who had a bag on his back, 
and who had simply grunted in answer to their ques- 
tion as to whether there was any village to the south 
of them. Then they had skated up the lake, so as 
to be in time to get supper for the troop. 

Well, I think we’ve got a pretty good idea of 
the lay of the land on our side of the lake anyway,” 
said the Scout-master, when the three leaders had 
made their reports. It’s always a good plan to 
know what the country round about you is like. That 
was the first thing settlers and scouts used to do in 
the pioneer days, get the lay of the land.” 

“You ought to see the country from Mr. 
Satterlee’s Castle,” suggested Rob. “ It looks just 
like a map.” 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 

Fve been up there,” said Mr. Grafton. Jack 
Satterlee’s a mighty fine fellow. We’ll have to ask 
him down here to dinner soon.” 

And let’s have Dan’l Taplow, too,” urged the 
Wise Guy. '' He can tell us a tremendous lot.” 

Later, as the Buffaloes were heading for their 
own cabin. Skipper and the Wise Guy, apparently 
just by chance, walked down to the lake-front. They 
edged in through the trees until they were well 
hidden from any chance observer. Then the Wise 
Guy remarked, ‘‘ I’ve been thinking. Skipper; ” and 
he said it in a very mysterious tone of voice. 

So’ve I,” returned Skipper. 

‘‘ It’s about what Taplow said,” went on the 
Wise Guy in the same impressive manner. 

Skipper nodded. 

‘‘ He said there wasn’t supposed to be any trap- 
ping done along the lake, at least not on land that 
belongs to Mr. Satterlee.” 

And he said that Mr. Satterlee owned a very 
big tract of land.” 

Each studied the dull shine of the ice for a 
minute. The question is,” said Skipper, does 
70 


THE TROOP ON THE HIKE 


Mr. Satterlee own the land where the house with the 
beaver-skins stands ? ’’ 

More than that/’ said the Wise Guy, does he 
own the land where the animals were trapped ? ” 

The beaver pond was close to the house,” said 
Skipper, ‘‘ and if he owned one he probably owned 
the other.” 

But we don’t know whether all the skins we 
saw through the window were beaver-skins,” ob- 
jected the Wise Guy. ‘‘ Those on the line were, but 
those others mightn’t be. It doesn’t follow, you 
know.” 

Skipper nodded. ‘‘ You’re right, it might just 
have happened that to-day was the trapper’s beaver 
day. You do look at a thing from all sides, don’t 
you?” 

And from top and bottom, too.” He lowered 
his voice to an inspiring whisper. ‘‘ I suspect. 
Skipper, there’s some mischief afoot. Of course we 
can’t prove it yet, but we can have our suspicions.” 

“ Of course we can,” the other agreed in a tone 
that implied he’d like to see anyone try to prevent 
their having any suspicions they had a mind to. 

71 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


Then he added, Do you think we ought to tell 
Taplow? ’’ 

"‘And maybe have him laugh at us for a couple 
of easy marks ? sniffed the Wise Guy. Certainly 
not ! How do we know he didn’t catch those beavers 
himself? ” 

But he said Mr. Satterlee wouldn’t have any 
trapping, didn’t he? ” 

Yes, he said so. But mightn’t he be doing a 
little poaching on the side himself? I don’t say 
he is; but mightn’t he? When you start detecting, 
Skipper, you want to suspect everybody first.” 

Skipper was very much impressed. He hadn’t 
suspected the Wise Guy of being so thorough be- 
fore; and felt as if he himself were a very guileless 
person in comparison. “All right,” he assented. 
“ I’ll do as you say.” 

They went back through the clearing to their own 
cabin, and tried to enter without being noticed by 
the other scouts. They must have looked somewhat 
self-conscious, however, for Rob called out, 
“ What’ve you two been doing? I’ll bet the Wise 
Guy’s discovered a new star, or a way to skate on 
72 


THE TROOP ON THE HIKE 


his hands, or how to catch fish by whistling to 'em.’' 

The object of these remarks didn't deign to make 
any reply. He went over to the fire and warmed his 
hands, while Skipper, sitting on the edge of his bunk, 
began to pull off his heavy shoes. 

After they were all in bed, and most of them 
sound asleep. Skipper leaned over the rail of his bunk 
and whispered to the Wise Guy, Hist ; mightn't it 
have been Mr. Satterlee himself who stole those 
skins? " 

The other boy turned over and opened his eyes. 

Who? " he whispered back. 

Mr. Satterlee himself," repeated Skipper. 

‘‘ Oh, Mr. Satterlee. Stealing 'em from himself, 
you mean ? Well, it don't sound very likely, but I’m 
glad you mentioned it." 

‘‘ Want to be thorough, you know," murmured 
Skipper. ‘‘ Look out for every double- and triple- 
cross." 

‘‘ Surely,” agreed the Wise Guy. He chuckled 
sleepily. You'll be thinking we caught the animals 
ourselves next," he suggested. 


VI 

THE FIELD OF ICE 


It was as instinctive now for the boys to put on 
their skates right after breakfast and strike out over 
the lake as it is for colts in a pasture to kick up 
their heels and go dashing along the fence, or for 
ducks to paddle out into the water. A boy couldn’t 
look across that field of shining ice, smooth and clear 
of snow and sparkling in the sunshine, without feel- 
ing that he had to get out on it instantly. That was 
the way the scouts felt as they ran out of their cabins 
early in the morning, and as soon as breakfast was 
eaten and the camp made ship-shape they were out 
on the lake. They practised fancy steps, never mind- 
ing how often or how hard they tumbled ; they raced 
each other across to the opposite bank; if the wind 
was good they brought out the sails and went skate- 
sailing, and there was always hockey. Some one 
would throw a puck onto the ice, and a game was on 
at once. 


74 


THE FIELD OF ICE 


The BufYaloes had a date to play the Blue Herons 
next morning, and the game was stubbornly fought. 
The Blue Herons had the better team-work; they 
didn’t get into each other’s way, but shot the rubber 
from one to another with beautiful precision, often 
carrying it almost the length of the field before 
a Buffalo would snake it away from them. Sandy 
Simmons was their captain, and he made a splendid 
one, his long arms and legs giving him a great reach. 

The Buffaloes, however, had two very fine indi- 
vidual players,. Max, who Was goal-keeper, and 
Duck, who played forward and was the cleverest 
dodger and fastest skater in the troop. Time and 
again it happened that the Herons would bring the 
puck between them down the field, the rubber gliding, 
flying, caroming about between them almost faster 
than the eye could follow it, and then one of them 
would lift it clear of the ice with a skilful twist of his 
stick, and shoot it toward the Buffaloes’ goal. The 
curved sticks of the Buffaloes couldn’t stop it, the 
puck would fly on toward the goal. But there Max 
was always ready, his knees or shins or skates would 
block it, and with a slash of his stick he would send 
75 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


it off to one side. Then Philip, at point, might catch 
it, dodge with it, carom it off to Skipper or Rob, 
who would try to pass it to Duck. And if Duck 
got it there was likely to be some playing well worth 
seeing. He would snake the rubber along, heading 
in one direction, veer, turn, twist, dodge, seem to 
lose it half a dozen times, but always have it again, 
and carry it far up the field before his opponents 
could break through his offence. The rest of his 
side would come skating after him, wildly excited, 
cheering and urging him on, while Duck, intensely 
in earnest, his eyes taking in every move about him, 
would go streaming along like a hare doubling and 
re-doubling before hounds. 

The game was very close this morning and neither 
side had been able to shoot a goal. Again and again 
the Herons’ team-work brought them down the 
field, the puck well guarded among them, only to 
have the shot at goal blocked by the watchful Max. 
The fifth time they had the rubber in front of the 
goal one of their team, a little over-eager, happened 
to give one of the Buffaloes a push, which spilled 
him on the ice. Mr. Grafton, who was acting as 
referee, called the push a foul, and there was a face- 

76 


THE FIELD OF ICE 


off. This was dangerous so close to the goal, and 
the Buffaloes massed solidly to protect it. The 
Herons, on their side, opened up like a fan behind 
their captain, intending to try to shoot at the goal 
if the puck should get out of the defence. There 
was great excitement. Skipper was swinging his 
arms like pump-handles, the Wise Guy was mutter- 
ing, “ Get ’em now, get ’em now ! ” and Rob was 
crouching for a spring. Max was bending forward, 
his muscles tense, his eyes watching the puck like 
those of a hawk. 

Philip’s stick sent the puck flying, none of the 
Herons could stop it, it skimmed out to the middle 
of the field, with the whole pack of players after it, 
shouting, cheering, racing for the rubber. Sandy 
Simmons got it, and shot it to a team-mate, from 
him it went to another, back to Sandy, and so on up 
the ice. But now one of the Buffaloes snaked it away 
from the Herons, carrying it along adroitly with his 
own stick, scooping it out from under the very noses 
of the enemy. It was Duck, and now he had a clear 
field. There was a great racket. Go it ! ” yelled 
the Buffaloes. '' Stop him ! ” cried the Herons. He 
played the puck along to the front of the Herons’ 
77 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


goal, he took aim, he swung his stick, and the rubber 
flew past the Herons' trusty goal-keeper and scofed. 
‘‘Fine for you. Duck!" “Hooray for Duck!" 
“ Good old Ducky Daddies ! " The Buffaloes swung 
their sticks about their heads like Indians at a war- 
dance. 

A few minutes later the referee called time. 
Duck's goal had won the match, and he was thumped 
and pummelled and pounded by the rest of his team 
to show their appreciation of his skill. “ He surely 
is the original Artful Dodger," said Skipper. “ You 
fellows may have the better team," he called to Sandy 
Simmons, “but so long as we've got Duck we're 
satisfied." 

When the hockey players came up to the bank 
they found Mr. Robins chatting with Dan Taplow. 
“ I was watching you boys," Taplow said, as he 
shook hands with Rob and the Wise Guy and 
Skipper, “ an' I was thinkin' you could give any 
grasshopper I ever saw a few pints on spryness. 
Talk about legs! I never see any legs git about so 
fast before." He grinned and nodded his head in 
great approval. “ Well, Mr. Guy, have you built 
any snow-shoes yet ? " 


78 


THE FIELD OF ICE 


‘‘ I haven’t had time/’ answered the Wise Guy. 

What with hockey and tramping and skate-sailing 
and eating we’re just about as busy as we can be.” 

‘‘ I saw some o’ the sails going up the lake as I 
come down along shore,” said Taplow. “ Pretty 
fine fun they looked, too. Tell you what, it takes 
folks from town to show us what you can rightly 
do in the country. None o’ the people up to the 
village knew anything about these here winter sports 
till Mr. Satterlee and his friends come up here and 
began to show ’em. They did a little sleddin’ and a 
little sleighin’, o’ course, but as for ice-boatin’ or 
curlin’ or fancy ski-jumpin’ and tobogganin’, — why, 
land alive ! ” — he threw out his hands in a very ex- 
pressive gesture — '' the folks up to Saulsbury didn’t 
know no more about ’em than I know how to play on 
the planner.” He laughed. But nowadays you 
can find old Ezra Whipple curlin’ on Mr. Satterlee’s 
rink back of his house. He ain’t so bad, neither ; I 
played against him last week, and I tell you I had 
my hands full to escape a lickin’.” He smiled at 
Skipper. Well, you ain’t seen any trappers or 
poachers stealin’ round here, have you, Mr. Scout? 
I don’t see any skins hangin’ in front o’ your cabins.” 

79 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


Skipper considered the question carefully. No, 
I haven’t seen any trappers or poachers,” he 
answered. 

‘‘You’re going to stay to dinner now you’re 
here,” Mr. Robins said to Taplow. “ Smell that 
bacon frying? And we’ll let you skin some baked 
potatoes if you’ll stay.” 

The forester let himself be persuaded, and en- 
joyed that dinner very much, finding the chatter of 
so many people very pleasant in place of his usual 
solitary meal in his shack. Afterwards he sat in the 
sun while the scouts gathered round and asked him 
a million questions about woodcraft and hunting. 
He did the best he could to answer them, but finally 
he flung up his hands and made a comic face of 
desperation. “ Hold up,” he begged. “ Don’t you 
boys know it’s a whole lot easier to ask questions than 
to answer ’em? I feel like a poor woman in the 
witness-box at the court-house, with all the lawyers 
jawin’ at her.” He jumped up and picked up a 
round stone that was fairly flat on one side. “ Come 
along, and I’ll show you how to curl. We want a lot 
o’ these good-sized, flat-bottomed stones.” 

Fortunately there were a number of such stones 
80 


THE FIELD OF ICE 


about the clearing, and the boys quickly collected a 
dozen. “ It won’t be much like a real curling match,” 
said Taplow, because the stones ought to be very 
heavy — those Mr. Satterlee has weigh some thirty 
pounds, and they ought to have handles on the 
upper side for throwing. But it’ll give you some 
notion of the game. Now get some brooms from the 
cabins, an ice-pick, and a tape-measure.” 

When these things were brought out Taplow 
walked on to the ice, and selecting a very smooth 
stretch, marked a line with the ice-pick. “ The rink 
ought to be forty-two yards long,” he explained, 
and each base-line eighteen feet across.” Dick and 
Philip measured these distances for him, and very 
shortly he had the rink, a narrow parallelogram, out- 
lined on the ice. Now we want a centre line running 
lengthwise, and a middle line half-way between the 
two bases,” Taplow went on. The scouts marked out 
these lines for him. “ Now four yards from each 
base-line mark another line across, that’s called the 
* sweeping score,’ and seven yards from that another 
cross line, the ‘ hog score.’ Are you good at drawing 
circles ? Then stick the point of the ice-pick through 
the ring on the end of that tape-measure, and make 
6 81 


I8IN.F00T SCORE. 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


three circles around the point where the sweeping 
score crosses the centre line — they call that point the 
tee — ^one circle with a radius of two feet, one four 
feet, and one seven feet. That’s all the marking you 
have to do; sounds sort o’ complicated, but it ain’t 
when you get used to it.” 

‘‘It sounds worse than it looks, does it?” said 
Mr. Robins. “ Well, I’m glad to see that the Wise 
Guy’s taking it all down in his note-book. Some 



THE CURLING RINK 


people can carry figures in their heads, but I’d rather 
have mine where I can look them up.” 

The Wise Guy, seated on the bank, was drawing 
a plan of the curling-rink as Philip and Dick marked 
it out. He used a pocket-rule that he always carried 
with him, and so the lines were pretty straight. This 
was how the diagram looked when he had it finished. 

“ Now,” said Taplow, when the rink was marked 
out, “ we have four players to each side, if we can 
82 


THE FIELD OF ICE 


get ’em, and each player uses two stones. The idea 
of curlin’ is to try to shoot your stone down the rink 
so’s to come as close as you can to the other tee, and 
to knock out the stones of your opponent. Mr. 
Satterlee says there are lots o’ different ways they 
play the game in Scotland and Canada, but this here 
way is the one he likes best. Now here’s the eight 
points you got to bear in mind and try for. First, 
striking; that means that a stone is put on the tee, 
and if you strike it with your stone it counts one, if 
you knock it out of the seven- foot circle it counts 
two. Second, inwicking ; that means one stone is set 
on the tee, and another with its inside edge 2 feet 6 
inches from the tee, and its fore edge on a line 
drawn from the tee at an angle of 45° with the 
centre line.” He placed a stone in that position. 
‘‘ Now if you strike that second stone on the inside 
it counts one, if your stone caroms from one to the 
other and so moves both stones it counts two. Do 
you get that ? ” 

Mr. Robins and the scouts who were watching 
nodded. 

“ Third, drawing,” continued Taplow. “ You 
shoot your stone and if you can lay it inside of the 
83 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


7- foot circle or on that circle it counts one; if in- 
side or on the 4-foot circle it counts two. Fourth 
is guarding. A stone is placed on the tee, and if 
you can shoot your stone so that it stops within six 
inches of the centre line it counts one; if it stops 
on the centre line it counts two. It must stop beyond 
the hog score line, but mustnT touch the stone on the 
tee.’^ 

The Wise Guy meantime had fished a bit of string 
from his pocket, and tying one end of it to the point 
of his pencil, was making circles in his note-book 
and drawing diagrams. 

‘‘ That’s four points of curlin’,” said Taplow. 
‘‘ Now they call the fifth chap and lie. A stone is 
placed on the tee, and you play your stone at it. If 
you knock the tee-stone out of the 7- foot circle and 
keep your stone inside or on that same circle it counts 
one. If you knock the tee-stone out of the 7-foot 
circle, and keep your stone inside or on the 4-foot 
circle it counts two. Sixth, wick and curl in. A 
stone’s put with its inner edge seven feet away from 
the tee, and its fore edge on a line that makes an 
angle of 45° with the centre line. If your stone 
strikes that stone and then your stone curls on or 

84 


THE FIELD OF ICE 


inside the 7- foot circle it counts one. If it strikes, 
and then curls on or inside the 4- foot circle it counts 
two. Seventh, raising. A stone is put with its 
centre on the central line and its inner edge eight 
feet from the tee. If your stone can strike the other 
stone into or on the 7-foot circle it counts one; if 
into or on the 4- foot circle two. Eighth is chipping 
the winner. One stone is put on the tee, and another 
with its inner edge ten feet away, just touching the 
centre line and half guarding the one on the tee, and 
a third stone four feet behind the tee with its inner 
edge touching the centre line but on the opposite side 
from that on which the guard stone is placed. If 
you can throw your stone so it strikes the stone be- 
hind the tee it counts one, if it strikes the stone on 
the tee it counts two. There’s more points, there’s 
one called outwicking; but I reckon them eight’ll do 
for a starter.” 

‘‘ Whew ! ” whistled Dick. I should say they’d 
do for a finisher, too.” 

You use the brooms/’ added Taplow, to 
sweep the ice so as to make the stones travel better. 
You can sweep in front of the stones that are being 

85 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


curled by a player on your own side, or in front of 
one of your stones that’s been set in motion by being 
struck by one of the other’s side.” He picked up one 
of the stones. Come on. I’ll show you how it 
goes.” 

‘‘There,” said the Wise Guy, standing up. 
“ There’s pictures of the eight points he’s been tell- 
ing about.” 

Rob looked at the note-book the Wise Guy held 
out. “Looks like a Chinese puzzle to me,” he 
declared. 

“Why, it’s as plain as pudding,” retorted the 
Wise Guy. “ I don’t believe you ever saw a respect- 
able diagram.” 

The following diagram was what the Wise Guy 
had drawn in his note-book. 

As Daniel Taplow had explained it the game 
didn’t seem at all difficult, but when the scouts tried 
to shoot the stones straight down the ice and hit 
other stones or stop their own stones near certain 
marks, they found it much harder than they thought. 
Their feet would slip as they started the stone on its 
journey and make it fly off in some unexpected direc- 
tion ; they would give the stone too much of a twist 
86 


THE FIELD OF ICE 


in one direction or the other, so that it would curl 
away from the rink instead of in toward the centre 
line. Those who tried sweeping the ice with brooms 


Ilf FEET 



2.JNWICKINGt 




8Ft 



THE EIGHT POINTS OF CURLING 

to make the stones go faster or slower found that it 
took a good deal of practice to learn even that simple 
art. Mr. Robins had played the game in Canada, 
87 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


and he and Taplow were easily the best at it. 

You’ll find there’s a good deal to it,” said Taplow 
with a chuckle, as he watched Skipper try to send 
a stone straight and almost plunge over on his head 
instead. “ You’ll have to go up to Mr. Satterlee’s 
rink some day and try the real stones. And the more 
you try ’em the more you’ll find to learn about the 
game. They’re pesky critturs, but you’re always 
sure next time you’ll get the hang o’ ’em just right.” 

Skipper, very red in the face from his efforts, 
nodded at the forester. “ I can see there’s some- 
thing to that game,” he admitted. It doesn’t look 
like so much ; but then pitching a baseball, when you 
want to make it curve, doesn’t look so hard till you 
try it.” 

The stones danced over the ice in all directions, 
while Taplow laughed and slapped his thigh and en- 
couraged the players to further attempts. They 
were still spinning the stones and sweeping and insist- 
ing on showing each other how to do it when he 
discovered that it was time for him to be going 
up the lake. ‘‘ So long, boys,” he said ; ‘‘ much obliged 
for dinner. Reckon I’ll be bearin’ you curlin’ them 
stones all the way up to the village. When you’ve 
88 


THE FIELD OF ICE 


practised some we'll have a match up to the Castle. 
Don’t forgit.” 

He hadn’t gone very far, however, on the path 
through the woods that skirted the edge of the lake, 
when he found two scouts following him. They 
were Skipper and the Wise Guy, and the Wise Guy 
said, “ We thought we’d go a little way with you to 
get the kinks out of our muscles. We’ve had so 
much hockey and curling to-day, you see.” 

'' Glad o’ the company,” said Taplow. ‘‘ But 
I’d think you’d want to set still ’stead o’ walkin’ to 
ease your muscles.” 

When they had gone a little farther Skipper 
asked, How much land does Mr. Satterlee own 
here? All the way down the lake on this side? ” 
About a mile down below the end o’ the lake,” 
Taplow answered. 

And a couple of miles through the woods, I 
guess,” suggested the Wise Guy. 

“Ten miles,” said Taplow. “ All the way to 
Greenapple Pike. It’s a fair-sized tract.” 

“ And he won’t have any hunting or trapping on 
all that tract ? ” inquired Skipper. “ Even small ani- 
mals, rabbits, or muskrats, or beavers ? ” 

89 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


Taplow turned to grin at the boys behind him. 
‘‘ Not even rabbits, nor muskrats, nor beavers,’’ said 
he. Was you boys eager to go huntin’? Well, I 
wish you’d try t’other side o’ the lake first.” 

** Oh, we’ve got plenty to do without hunting 
now,” promptly put in the Wise Guy. ‘‘ But don’t 
men ever do any poaching on such a big tract of 
land ? ” 

“ They do,” answered Taplow. “ They do most 
every winter. I reckon they may have sneaked some 
things out this winter. But they haven’t any right 
to. There’s been too much game taken out o’ the 
woods in the old days, and we want to keep what’s 
left” 

‘‘Of course,” agreed Skipper. “ It is a shame 
to take what game’s left.” 

“ I just got back to the woods the day before 
you struck camp,” said Taplow. “ I’d been up to 
town for a couple o’ weeks. There’s no tellin’ what 
may have been goin’ on.” He shook his head as if he 
thought that in his absence poachers might even 
have stolen most of the trees. 

They only walked a short distance farther before 
the two boys said they had eased their muscles and 

90 


THE FIELD OF ICE 


must turn back. Taplow bade them good-night, and 
invited them to^ take a meal with him at his shack 
some time. Skipper and the Wise Guy retraced their 
path imtil the forester was well out of sight, then 
they stopped, and the Wise Guy pulled his invaluable 
note-book from his pocket. He opened a double 
sheet of paper and revealed a map. “ I drew it 
before you were out of bed this morning,’’ he said 
proudly. ‘‘ Now you see, if Mr. Satterlee owns ten 
miles west of the lake he must own some distance be- 
yond Beaver Pond and the house we found this side 
of it. Those skins were poached from his land, sure 
as shooting.” 

“ It certainly does look that way,” said Skipper, 
studying the map. 

Then,” said the Wise Guy, we’ve got a clue 
to something nobody else knows anything about. 
Taplow may find it out in a few days, but he’s been 
away, and I don’t think he knows about those skins 
yet.” 

‘‘ I don’t believe he does,” Skipper agreed. 
‘‘ We’ve surely got a clue. But what’ll we do with 
it?” 


91 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


‘‘ Find the poachers/’ declared the Wise Guy. 
“ It’s easy enough to discover stolen goods, but it’s 
another matter to find the man who took them.” 

“ You’re right,” assented Skipper, nodding. He 
slapped the other scout on the back. I’m on ! 
Sounds pretty exciting! Find the poachers, there 
may be a gang of them ! ” 

The Wise Guy pocketed his note-book. In that 
case it’ll be a battle of wits against numbers,” he 
announced. 

They had gone a little farther when Skipper said, 
‘‘ But they may have wits, too, you know.” 

But the Wise Guy made no reply, he was evi- 
dently too absorbed in studying the problem on Hand. 



DICK WAS SHOWING MAX HOW TO MANAGE THE SKIS 




t m 



VII 

SCOUTS ON SKIS AND SNOW-SHOES 

Half the troop were exploring the country that 
lay to the south and east of the lake, and half were 
up at Mr. Satterlee’s Castle. The owner of the big 
house on the hill still wore a bandage round his head 
and moved his right arm and shoulder gingerly, but 
otherwise he appeared ready for any sport. The 
long snowy slope was an ideal place for ski-running 
and jumping, and a dozen pairs of the long Wooden 
Wings of Norway,’^ as Mr. Satterlee said skis were 
sometimes called, were in use at the same time. 
Luckily there was plenty of room, for several of the 
scouts were beginners, and needed as much space 
as a circus elephant being taught to turn somersaults. 

Dick, who was quite an expert on skis, was trying 
to show Max how to manage the business. Step 
out first with one foot, then with the other,’’ he 
directed, “keeping your skis parallel and always 
touching the snow.” That was easy. Max, his round 
93 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


face, red with the cold air, resembling that of a gob- 
lin, shoved one foot forward, then the other, holding 
his pole in both hands before him, like a tight-rope 
walker balancing on a wire. 

Now follow me up the side of this hill, Max,’^ 
said Dick. “I’ll start up on one tack and you take 
the other. Hold your pole on the uphill side, and use 
it like an alpenstock. Now move your foot — always 
the upper foot — it’s your right one, up and round to 
the right so the two skis are parallel again but point- 
ing in opposite directions. Left foot now, up and 
around to the right in its ordinary position. Swing 
your pole over to your other hand. That’s easy 
enough, isn’t it ? ” 

But Max was now standing in the most wonder- 
fully twisted position, his legs and skis at such absurd 
angles that he felt as if he couldn’t move hand or 
foot without falling over. “Get your balance!” 
called out Dick. “ Throw your weight the other 
way.” Max threw his weight over, evidently the 
wrong way, for he plunged into the snow, a jumble 
of arms, legs, alpenstock, and skis. 

“ I’m going to stay where I am,” he declared. 
“ Anyway I don’t see how I can get up.” 

94 


SCOUTS ON SKIS AND SNOW-SHOES 


Dick was roaring with laughter, for Max cer- 
tainly did look like a windmill on its side. “ Oh, 
everybody gets a spill or two at first, he said. 
‘‘ Here, I can get you up. And remember it’s chiefly 
a matter of balance, like riding a bicycle, you’ve got 
to learn to keep throwing your balance one side or 
the other.” 

'' Well, I did,” grunted Max. ‘‘ I threw it all 
right, and it landed me here in the snow.” 

What’s the matter?” said Duck, coming up. 
“ Why, it’s little Max trying to make kindling out of 
his skis. Let’s try him on his feet again, Dick.” 
Between them they got Max up, and balanced gin- 
gerly on the long hickory runners. 

‘‘ All you want’s a little nerve. Max,” announced 
Duck. 'Hf you stop every step you’re pretty sure 
to topple over. You want to go right ahead. See, 
like this.” He was off, skimming lightly over the 
crust of snow, agile as a bird. 

“ Duck’s right,” said Dick. When you bicycle, 
the faster you go the better, and it’s the same with 
skis. The speed and motion help you keep your bal- 
ance.” To illustrate, he went gliding off after the 
skilful Duck. 


05 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 

Like a bicycle, is it? ” muttered Max, and he 
went after the other two down the hillside. Faster 
and faster he went, clutching his pole in his hands ; 
he gave a very good picture of an experienced ski- 
runner for a few minutes. Then, coming to a level 
stretch unexpectedly he plunged head over heels 
into the snow again. It really looked this time as if 
he meant to stay there. 

At last he twisted about into a sitting position, 
rubbing the snow from his face with his gloved hand. 
‘Tlague take the pesky things ! he muttered, look- 
ing at the skis. Fd rather try running on stilts.” 
He looked around as he heard some one approaching. 
“ Hello, Wise Guy. How’re you getting on? ” 

Only four spills so far,” said the other scout. 

But I’m beginning to feel as you do — more com- 
fortable sitting down. They’re trying ski-jumping 

on the other side of the hill. It looks good ” 

He shook his head. But I don’t somehow exactly 
seem to see myself doing it just yet.” 

I’m no blooming antelope,” said Max, ‘‘ jump- 
ing from rock to rock across canyons and chasms.” 
He got up to his feet and eyed the hill doubtfully. 

If I can get up there on these things I’ll change 

96 


SCOUTS ON SKIS AND SNOW-SHOES 


back to good old snow-shoes. This having feet six 
feet long may be all right when youVe used to it, 
but I do get my toes tied in all sorts of tangles.” 

We’ll ski up there together,” suggested the 
Wise Guy. Now do as I do, and take it easy.” 

Together they managed to get up the hill, 
although Max had to stop and have his feet un- 
tangled several times, which made him feel, as he 
said, like a fly with its feet caught on sticky paper. 
As soon as they reached the Castle both scouts un- 
strapped their skis and jumped up and down on the 
brick terrace to make sure their feet felt all right. 

Mr. Satterlee said to help ourselves to snow-shoes, 
or anything else we saw that we liked,” said the 
Wise Guy. I vote we take snow-shoes and go off 
on a little party of our own.” 

Both boys were good at snow-shoeing, which is 
a much simpler business than going across hilly 
country on skis. All one has to do is to step for- 
ward far enough to clear the other shoe, and the 
inner edges of the shoes slip over each other so that 
one does not have to walk with his feet far apart. 
Of course there are muscles in thighs and ankles 
that ache after a time if one is not used to using 
7 97 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


them, but both Max and the Wise Guy had got 
beyond that beginner’s point. 

They went down the hill to the village on snow- 
shoes, and as they passed a white farmhouse with 
green shutters some one hailed them from the door. 
They stopped, and Mr. Whipple came down the path 
to the road. ‘‘ Perhaps you wouldn’t mind doing 
me a favor,” he said, if you’re not in a hurry.” 

‘‘No hurry at all,” answered Max promptly. 

“ Well, you see,” said Mr. Whipple in that slow 
deliberate way of speaking of his which always 
sounded as if he were making a speech or an ora- 
tion, “ I promised to walk out to Mrs. Bamaby’s 
this afternoon and take her some things from the 
store she’d been wanting. My wife’s not feeling 
very well, and I don’t like to leave her. Si Calloway 
down at the store won’t send provisions out ; he says 
folks give him trouble enough buying the stock he’s 
got, without his sending it home for them.” Here 
Mr. Whipple’s eyes twinkled. “ But Mrs. Barnaby 
needs those things right away, she’s got a husband 
with the rheumatiz, and it’s quite a good spell of 
walking for a woman. When I saw you scouts 
going along so lively on them snow-shoes I thought 
98 


SCOUTS ON SKIS AND SNOW-SHOES 


now p’raps they wouldn’t mind stepping over for 
me. 

‘‘Of course not,” said the Wise Guy. “ Snow- 
shoes are just as good as Seven League boots.” 

Mr. Whipple went into the house and returned 
with a basket, its bulging cover tied with a piece of 
twine. He gave them directions as to how to find 
the Barnaby house, which was over on Greenapple 
Pike, and had a bam with a crowing rooster for a 
weather-vane. The scouts put their staffs through 
the handle of the basket and swung it up between 
them. “ It goes as easy as hunters bringing in a 
deer,” said Max. 

“ Careful it don’t upset,” warned Mr. Whipple. 
“ ’T wouldn’t do them provisions any good to get 
mixed up with the snow.” 

The two travelled rapidly over the snow, swing- 
ing past the store in the village, and following a 
winding lane that brought them at length intO' Green- 
apple Pike. Along this they went for another half- 
mile, and then stopped before a small house, which, 
from the evidence furnished by the crowing rooster 
weather-vane on the bam, must be where the 
Bamabys lived. They knocked on the door, and it 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


was opened after a minute by a rosy-cheeked woman. 
‘‘We brought this basket up from Saulsbury for 
Mr. Whipple,” explained Max. “ His wife’s sick. 
It’s for Mrs. Bamaby.” 

“ I’m Mrs. Bamaby,” she said. “ Won’t you 
come in and get warmed up a bit ? ” She was a pleas- 
ant-faced woman, and a few minutes by the fire 
did sound attractive. So they slipped their feet out 
of the snow-shoes, knocked the snow from their leg- 
gins, and went into the living-room. Mr. Bamaby 
was sitting in front of the fireplace, a girl was sitting 
at a window reading, a small boy was building blocks 
on the floor, and a baby was napping in a cradle. 
“ Get some of the winter mssets, Mary,” said Mrs. 
Bamaby. Each of the scouts was soon munching 
a big apple. 

Mrs. Bamaby wanted to know where the boys 
were from, and then she wanted to know all about 
their troop. “ Well, it does sound mighty fine,” 
she said. “ But I always thought scouts were to 
hunt things out? ” 

“ So they are,” said the Wise Guy. “ We always 
keep our eyes open.” 


100 


SCOUTS ON SKIS AND SNOW-SHOES 


Can you milk a cow ? ” Mrs. Barnaby asked. 

Well/’ said the Wise Guy, I haven’t tried. 
But I think I could.” 

Mrs. Barnaby laughed. ‘‘ I reckon you could — 
after she upset your pail half-a-dozen times. And 
how’s my good friend, Mr. Satterlee? Still sailing 
that boat of his down on the ice? ” 

She liked to talk; probably she saw so few 
strangers that any were very welcome. So the boys 
stayed for a half-hour, and when they left each had 
a winter russet stuffed into each of his pockets. 

Down Greenapple Pike they went as the sun, 
now low in the sky, turned the fields of snow into a 
sea of dancing orange points. 

There were very few houses along the Pike, 
none at all in fact after they left the road that 
branched off to the village. The snow-shoes slap- 
slapped on the crusted snow, and the scouts watched 
the sun gleaming through the bare tops of the trees 
to the west of them. Then, as they turned a bend 
in the road, they saw two men, also on snow-shoes, 
coming toward them. One of the men wore a bear- 
skin cap and carried something made of steel that 
glittered in the sunlight. 

101 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


There were so few people to be met in that part 
of the country that the scouts instinctively looked 
carefully at these strangers. The two men returned 
the compliment fully. Then something prompted 
Max to stop as they came opposite, and say, Good 
afternoon. Did you have any luck with your 
traps ? ” 

The men also stopped. Who said an)^hing 
about trappin’ ? ” demanded the one in the bearskin 
cap. 

Why, that’s a trap you’ve got in your hand, 
isn’t it?” returned Max. 

The second man looked at the steel thing and 
then grinned. '' Where’d you come from, any- 
way? ” he inquired sarcastically. “ Don’t you know 
a pair of automobile springs when you see ’em? ” 

** It certainly looked like a trap to me,” said Max, 
determined not to be faced down. 

‘‘ Well, you’re wiser now,” put in the man in the 
cap. “ And let me give you a bit of advice to chew 
on — don’t you go askin’ questions about what ain’t 
none o’ your business.” 

Why ” stammered Max, completely taken 

102 


SCOUTS ON SKIS AND SNOW-SHOES 


by surprise at the man’s words and manner, why, 
I didn’t think you’d mind such a question.” 

“ Well, you know better now. There ain’t any 
need of askin’ questions of strangers.” 

Oh, keep your temper. Bill,” said the other 
man. He nodded to the scouts as he started to walk 
on. Bill’s hungry for his supper. That’s what’s 
the trouble with him.” 

I ain’t hungry neither,” retorted Bill, and I 
mean what I say.” He scowled, looking as if he 
would like to say a great deal more; but his com- 
panion urged him tO' go on about his business. 

‘‘ He’s about as sweet as vinegar! ” Max, still 
surprised, was looking at the Wise Guy. “ And it 
was a trap ; not a pair of automobile springs.” 

Of course it was,” agreed the Wise Guy calmly. 

** Why didn’t you say so, then ? ” 

It seemed to me you’d said quite enough. They 
didn’t want to talk about traps with us.” 

I’d like to take a shot at him with a good hard 
snowball,” said Max. Then he laughed. He’ll 
need a good big supper to make him feel right, and 

that reminds me that I’m feeling empty myself.” 

103 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


They turned off from the pike a little further 
on and made their way through the woods toward 
the lake. By the time they reached camp it was 
dark, and they were glad to find a good fire blazing 
on the hearth of the Buffalo cabin. Skipper sat on 
the floor, putting on a pair of dry shoes. Max and 
the Wise Guy warmed their hands at the blaze. 

We met a fellow in a bearskin cap,” said Max, 
‘‘ and he acted just like a bear, growl and all. They 
ought to show him off at country fairs.” 

‘‘ You did? ” said Skipper. Why, he must be 
the same one Dick and I ran into the day we were 
skate-sailing.” He glanced at the Wise Guy, who, 
standing so Max could not see him, winked and then 
made the mysterious motion of catching his left 
forefinger between the fore and second finger of his 
right hand. 

I pretty nearly lost my temper,” said Max, 
but the Wise Guy was cool as a judge. DonT you 
ever speak to people you meet on the road ? ” 

I don’t ask them questions,” the Wise Guy 
answered. “If they want to tell me what they’re 
doing, that’s another matter.” 

104 


SCOUTS ON SKIS AND SNOW-SHOES 


** Sounds like a copy-book text/' said Max. 
‘‘ Wise Guy, you ought to write mottoes for calen- 
dars." 

That evening Max was busy with pencil and 
paper, and presently he went round to the Wise Guy 
and thrust a folded sheet into his hand. Unfolding 
it and putting the paper between his knees so that 
the firelight fell upon it, but no one but himself 
could see it, he read: 

Along Greenapple Pike one day. 

Two scouts were snow-shoeing their way. 

And one was just the average jay, 

The other one was wise; 

They met two surly-looking chaps, 

One scout asked, “ Might those things be traps 
You carry in your hand, perhaps? ” 

The other used his eyes. 

One man got mad as he could be. 

“ Keep to your own affairs,” said he, 

“ I don’t want none to question me, 

I’m hungry, lame, and sore.” 

The first scout felt a great surprise. 

And anger to his features flies, 

The second only used his eyes. 

As he had done before. 


105 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


And when the men had gone away, 

The first scout said, “ Now tell me, pray, 

Why hadn’t you a word to say ? ” 

The other winked his eye. 

“ I never ask a question till 
I’m sure it won’t be taken ill — 

A wise chap knows when to keep still; 

And I’m the wisest Guy ! ” 

When he had read the poem over three times 
he folded it up and put it away in his inside breast- 
pocket. 

Later, when they were in their own cabin, the 
Wise Guy found a chance to speak to Max privately. 

That wasn’t a bad poem,” he said. ‘‘ You got 
some mighty good rhymes in it.” 

Max’s chubby face grinned. ‘‘ I thought it was 
pretty good myself,” he admitted. And the joke 
of the whole thing is that there never was such a 
fellow to ask questions as you are.” 

The Wise Guy frowned. ‘‘ That depends,” said 
he. Sometimes I do ask a lot of questions.” 

‘‘ Depends on what ? ” 

‘‘ Well, on circumstances. For instance, I never 
asked a thief what he was going to do when I saw 
him starting out to rob a house.” 

106 


SCOUTS ON SKIS AND SNOW-SHOES 


‘‘ You never saw a thief starting out to rob a 
house.” 

“ IVe seen something pretty much like it.” 
With that mysterious remark he turned on his heel, 
and left Max wondering what on earth that had to 
do with the subject they were discussing. 


VIII 

THE WISE GUY EXPLORES 

Each of the three Patrols took turns at being 
camp-cooks, and it was now the turn of the Beavers. 
The other scouts always accused the Beavers of 
making mud-pies, pretending to think that the ani- 
mal whose name the Patrol had taken was fond of 
living on that delicacy, but as a matter of fact the 
Beavers were quite as good cooks as any of the 
others. They had their own particular specialty, 
of course; they were fond of making flapjacks with 
jelly inside, just as the Blue Herons were noted for 
their omelettes, and the Buffaloes for their candied 
sweet potatoes. 

All the scouts were busy, but the Wise Guy was 
busiest of all. He seemed to have a great deal to 
consider, was often lost in thought, and did not 
ask the Scout-master or Mr. Robins nearly so many 
questions as usual. Indeed, he asked so few ques- 
tions that Mr. Robins asked him if he wasn’t feeling 
108 


THE WISE GUY EXPLORES 


well, to which the Wise Guy replied that he had 
learned so much since coming into the woods that 
he felt as if he hadn’t yet digested all of it. “ Then 
you really remember the answers to your ques- 
tions?” asked Mr. Robins, who was considerably 
amused. I only remember what I think will be 
useful,” said the Wise Guy. ‘‘ You have to sort out 
information just as you have to sort out clothes and 
other things you want to keep.” 

He actually had a problem to study out that was 
as interesting to him as any detective story he had 
ever read. He didn’t want simply to go to Mr. 
Satterlee or Daniel Taplow and say, “ I think there 
are men in your woods who are stealing beavers and 
other animals.” There would be nothing exciting 
about that, anybody could do it ; he wanted the troop 
to have a hand in rounding-up the men. He talked 
the matter over privately with Skipper, and they 
came to the conclusion that although the poachers 
might possibly have several small cabins scattered 
here and there in the woods, it was probable that the 
house near Beaver Pond was their headquarters, and 
the place where they stored the most of their stolen 
skins. 


109 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


‘‘ I think/' the Wise Guy said to Skipper as they 
conferred in a quiet nook on the shore of the lake, 
** we’d better take Max in with us.” 

‘‘ Why? ” demanded Skipper. 

Well, you see he saw that man with the trap 
yesterday, and he might hear what Taplow said 
about no traps being allowed in the woods, and then 
he might begin to ask questions and spoil the whole 
game. Besides, it might be just as well to have three 
of us if we’re going to do any investigating.” 

“ What investigating were you thinking of ? ” 
I’d like to connect those men we met with that 
house and the beaver skins, and find out how many 
men there are. We haven’t much real evidence yet.” 

‘‘ That’s so,” agreed Skipper. ‘‘ Well, I haven’t 
any objection to Max. I should say he’d be a good 
one to take in with us.” 

Therefore a little later in the morning Max was 
honored by being invited to a secret conference with 
the two conspirators. “ What’s up ? ” he asked, not- 
ing the mysterious manner of the other two. “ You 
aren’t going to initiate me into any fake fraternity? ” 
He shook his head at them. Some fellows tried 
that on me once — made me crawl around on the 


110 


THE WISE GUY EXPLORES 


floor blindfolded, and emptied a bag of meal over 
my head — but I wouldn’t stand for it a second 
time.” 

‘‘We aren’t going to initiate you into anything,” 
said the Skipper loftily. “ We’re going to take you ^ 
into our confidence.” 

“ Oh, it’s a confidence game, is it? ” said Max. 

“ Well, confide ahead; I’ll be the goat.” 

He was very much impressed, however, by the 
astonishing facts that the Wise Guy put before him. 

He realized now why the latter had been so cautious 
about mentioning traps or asking any questions 
when they had met the two men the afternoon be- 
fore. “ You’ve got it just right,” he said, “ we 
don’t want to tell Taplow or anybody else until 
we’ve got a line on the whole business. We ought 
to go up and look at that house by the pond. We 
might even catch them red-handed bringing in the 
skins. Why, we might lock ’em in, or nab the whole 
lot ourselves — that is, if there weren’t more than 
three or four of them.” 

“ I don’t think we’d better try any fancy stunts,” 
said the Wise Guy. “ What we want is to be sure of 
our facts.” 


Ill 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


‘‘ I guess you’re right,” agreed Max. Unless 
we should have a good chance at ’em. It was very 
decent of you two to let me in on this. Of course 
I’d do the same if I stumbled on any import^t 
secret.” 

They decided that the three should make a visit 
to the house by the pond that same afternoon, meet- 
ing at a certain tree that stood back of the camp. 
This required some skill, but by inventing various 
excuses, such as Max saying that he’d hurt his ankle 
playing hockey, and the Wise Guy discovering that 
he wanted to find a certain kind of bark to make 
some paint, and Skipper’s having a letter to write in 
his cabin and climbing out through a back window, 
they were able to meet at the place agreed on. Then 
they decided that they could travel better on snow- 
shoes, and so Max climbed back through the win- 
dow and brought out snow-shoes for the three. 

It did not take them very long, to find the trail 
they had followed on the day of the hike, and soon 
they caught sight of the house on the edge of the 
meadow. From here they advanced with caution, 
keeping hidden in the woods as much as they could, 
112 


THE WISE GUY EXPLORES 


and finally making a dash across a small opening 
to the shelter of the bushes back of the house. 

No smoke came from the chimney of the house, 
the place looked completely deserted, there was no 
sound of voices to be heard. The three scouts 
stayed in their ambush for some time, then, at a 
signal from the Wise Guy, they stole out from the 
bushes. Proceeding with great caution they came 
to the place where the beaver skins had been hung ; 
there were none there now. When they reached the 
packing-box that stood under the window at the side 
of the house each scout stepped up on it and looked 
in. A pile of what appeared unquestionably to be 
skins lay on the table. As each boy stepped down 
he nodded vigorously, as if to show that there was 
no doubt but that they were on the right trail. 

Very cautiously they made a circuit of the house, 
but except in front, where a path had been trodden 
down, there was no sign that the house was in- 
habited. If there was anyone about he must be 
indoors, and the Wise Guy considered that it would 
be safe to hold a conference as to further investi- 
gating. Suppose we try the front door,’’ he whis- 
pered. Then if we find it unlocked, and walk in, 

8 113 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


and meet anybody, we can say we'd lost our way 
and wanted to ask the direction of Saulsbury.” 

“ All right," said Skipper. Good business," 
said Max ; and the three headed for the porch. They 
went up the steps, and Skipper tried the door. 

Locked," he whispered. 

They felt, however, that they ought to know' a 
little more about the place, and so they went to each 
window, and taking turns in climbing on each other’s 
shoulders, for the windows were high, looked inside. 
Max reported a room with a lot of bedding on the 
floor; the Wise Guy saw the kitchen, with a table 
covered with dishes; Skipper found a small room 
with a cot-bed in one comer. That investigation 
didn’t tell them much, therefore, and feeling some- 
what baffled, they withdrew again to the shelter 
of the bushes behind the house. 

The three were discussing their next move in 
whispers when the sound of boots cmnching on 
snow came to their ears. Someone was coming up 
the path that led from Beaver Pond. The scouts, 
hid behind their screen, watched, and saw three men 
come along in single-file. Each man was carrying 
a bundle of black or dark brown furs. 


114 


THE WISE GUY EXPLORES 


Two of the men were the two that Max and 
the Wise Guy had met on the Pike the day before, 
the third was a shorter fellow with a very red face. 
They went to the front of the house, where they 
were lost to the scouts’ observation. But in a short 
time smoke began to come from the chimney, so 
that it was a safe guess that the trappers had entered 
and meant to spend the night there. 

Caught with the goods on ! ” muttered Skipper, 
the first to speak. 

‘‘ That’s old Grouch in the bearskin cap, right 
enough ! ” whispered Max. And the second fel- 
low was old Automobile Springs, too! ” 

Time for us to vamoose,” said the Wise Guy. 
‘‘ We’ve seen them, and I don’t want them to catch 
sight of us.” 

So the scouts withdrew through the woods, skirt- 
ing Beaver Pond, and reaching the trail to camp 
that was now familiar going for them. But before 
they reached the lodge the Wise Guy halted, and 
pulling off his striped toque, ran his fingers through 
his hair. What’s the next step? ” said he. ‘‘ Ought 
we to go and tell Taplow what we’ve discovered? ” 
What would Taplow do? ” said Skipper, draw- 
115 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 

ing the figure of a man in the snow with his staff 
and addressing his question to it. 

‘‘Let’s see,” said Max. “What would he do? 
He couldn’t handle three men — and there may be 
more for all we know — ^by himself. They’re prob- 
ably armed, and they wouldn’t have any trouble 
making a getaway, taking the skins with them.” 

“ He’d probably report at once to Mr. Satterlee,” 
suggested the Wise Guy. 

“ And he’d telephone to the nearest big town,” 
Skipper went on, “ for some policemen or constables 
or something like that, and they’d do the capturing.” 

The Wise Guy went on rumpling up his hair 
imtil it looked as if it had never known brush or 
comb, which was a sign that he was absorbed in deep 
thought. “ It seems to me,” he announced finally, 
“ that the troop ought to have something to do with 
this. Here we are, plenty of perfectly useful scouts. 
Why call in a lot of men from a distance? ” 

“ Who have a chance to make an exciting 
round-up every day or two, most likeiy,” put in 
Max. 

“ And it would be a big thing to us,” said 
Skipper, “ a thing we’d remember for a long time.” 

116 


THE WISE GUY EXPLORES 


He punched a row of buttons down the front of the 
snow-man’s jacket. 

Well, I don’t see,” said the Wise Guy, why 
we shouldn’t tell Taplow what we’ve discovered, if 
he’ll promise to let us help him and not call in any 
outsiders.” 

''We must make him promise before we tell 
him,” said Skipper. 

That being decided, they laid their line of march 
toward Taplow’s cabin, which they succeeded in 
reaching after a tramp that resembled the curves of 
a letter S. The man they were looking for was not 
at home, however. They opened the door and went 
into the cabin, which was very comfortably fur- 
nished, and they looked up and down the lake, but 
there was no sign of him. The fishing-flags were 
not set in the holes of the ice, as they were apt to be 
if he was in the neighborhood. 

" Better jog along down to the camp,” said Max. 
"Wish we’d brought our skates; it wouldn’t take 
as long on them as. it does on snow-shoes.” 

They jogged along the lake shore to the Lodge, 
and there they found Daniel Taplow and Mr. 
Satterlee, who had ventured to try his hand again 
117 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


at sailing his ice-boat, trying to show the scouts 
some of the finer points of curling with the clumsy 
stones that wouldn’t behave as respectable curling- 
stones should. It isn’t much like curling,” said 
Mr. Satterlee, and I suppose any Scotchman would 
shake his head, and say, ‘ Hoot, mon, an’ are ye 
playin’ marbles wi’ them hunks o’ stanes ? ’ but it 
isn’t a bad sort of game for our own invention. 
We ought to give it a name of its own, though. 
These stones don’t really curl over the ice, they 
bound about. How would Bounders do? ” 

“ Fine,” said several scouts ; and so this new 
game was forthwith christened Bounders. 

Both guests were urged to stay to supper, and 
when the Beavers told them that it was their night 
to make their famous flapjacks neither guest could 
refuse. After supper they joined the group in 
front of the council fire. As usual when they had 
the former trapper and guide with them, the boys 
wanted to ask him all sorts of questions about ani- 
mals, and also as usual Taplow was very much flat- 
tered and told them all he knew. Sometimes he was 
tempted to tell more than he knew, to play the part 
of Baron Munchausen, but almost always when he 
118 


THE WISE GUY EXPLORES 


began to exaggerate a little some one of the scouts 
would begin to smile, and Taplow, seeing the smile, 
would own that he was stretching the truth some- 
what. The Wise Guy was particularly good at this. 
“ I don’t dare tell nothin’ but the truth when you’re 
lookin’ at me,” Taplow said. But I’d like to make 
up some whoppin’ big yarns just to see you grin.” 

You were always fond of the Indians, Hugh,” 
Mr. Grafton said to the owner of the Castle. Tell 
us why you think so well of them.” 

‘‘ It’s not only I who think well of them,” an- 
swered Mr. Satterlee. The men who came to 
America with the early settlers thought very highly 
of them. William Penn, for instance, said that he 
thought the people of Europe could learn a great 
deal that was splendid from the native Americans 
that the Europeans called savages. The Indians 
were honest and fair in dealing with each other and 
with the settlers, which was more than many of the 
pioneers were. When white men bought land from 
the Indians they were very apt to cheat the red 
men, and yet it took the Indians a lot of time to 
realize that men could be as tricky and greedy as 
many of these strangers from over the seas were. 

119 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


There are many stories of white men cheating the 
Indians in business ways, but very few stories of the 
Indians deceiving the whites. They learned other 
things from the whites, too, besides greed and 
trickery ; they learned intemperance in drinking 
whiskey, and many of them learned shiftlessness, 
and often when they attacked the English colonists 
it was because the French had bribed them to do it, 
and vice versa.” 

They were used like the cat’s paws to get the 
chestnuts out of the fire for the monkey?” sug- 
gested Mr. Robins. 

Mr. Satterlee nodded. Very often they were. 
But if you take the Indian by himself, what do you 
find? A man who loved and even worshipped the 
outdoor life and all the gifts of nature, who knew 
the woods and the waters, the birds and the animals, 
the signs of the changes in weather, the use of 
plants for food and medicine, the stars, better than * 
almost any other race has known them. He could 
make tents and canoes, blankets, baskets, everything 
he needed for himself, and he made them so that 
they were real things of beauty. People can’t live 
outdoors and understand natural things as the In- 
120 


THE WISE GUY EXPLORES 


dians did without getting a love of beauty and show- 
ing it in what they make themselves. And with that 
knowledge of nature and love of beauty goes the In- 
dian’s simplicity in government. The Indian didn’t 
hoard gold or money ; when any of the tribe needed 
help the others gave it to them, there were no rich 
and poor, they understood that the woods, fields, 
and waters belonged to all; it was the white man 
from Europe who taught them his plan of seizing 
all he could for himself, fencing it off, and then mak- 
ing laws to insure that no one else should enjoy it.” 

You make the white settler look like a pretty 
poor sort of person, Hugh,” said Mr. Grafton. 

‘‘ Well, I sometimes think they were in compari- 
son with the race they often called savages. There 
were many noble white men, William Penn and 
Roger Williams, for instance. There were also 
many bad Indians, of course. But the Indians were 
hardly ever greedy or selfish, and the whites were 
very apt to be. The white people are to-day, and 
in spite of all the magnificence of New York I sup- 
pose there are hundreds more people needing food 
and shelter there than there were in all of North 
America when Columbus reached the West Indies. In 


121 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


many ways we are far superior to the Indian, but in 
many other ways he was far superior to us; and I 
think it's rather a good thing for us to remember that 
and also remember some of the things he stood for. 
It’s easy to do that when you’re up here in the 
North Woods, a good deal easier than when you’re 
down in New York.” 

‘‘ You’re right, Hugh,” said Mr. Grafton, “ and 
I think that scouts specially ought to keep the mes- 
sage of the Indian in mind.” 

A little later the two visitors took their leave, 
escorted to the shore of the lake by the troop. There 
was a young moon in the sky now, and a good breeze 
was blowing over the ice. I’m pretty careful about 
handling this craft since I got that spill,” said Mr. 
Satterlee as he made the ice-boat ready. “ Come on, 
Dan. I guess you can stick on all right. I’ll drop 
you off at your cabin.” 

That prevented the three conspirators from hav- 
ing their little talk with Taplow that evening. They 
couldn’t steal off through the woods at that time of 
night without exciting comment, and they didn’t 
want their plans to become known to the rest of the 
troop until everything was in readiness. 

122 


IX 

THE STORM IN THE WOODS 

There was a great deal of work to be done the 
next morning, firewood to be cut, cooking things 
to be cleaned, a certain amount of laundry to be 
looked after, a general house-cleaning and straight- 
ening-out, in fact. Each of the three patrols had 
its share of the work to do, so that there was no 
chance for Skipper and the Wise Guy and Max to 
go on with their own particular plans. When the 
camp- work was finished Philip called on the Buffa- 
loes to play a practice hockey game with the Beavers. 
That lasted some time, and the Wise Guy realized 
that he couldn't possibly expect to see Taplow until 
afternoon. 

Duck was on the rampage, too, a habit that came 
to him every once in a while, just as other people 
want to make poor jokes or eat things they oughtn't 
to from time to time. They called him the Village 
Cut-up," and he deserved the name. If he saw an- 

123 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


other scout happening to stoop over he tried to leap- 
frog over him; he pretended to be a circus clown 
and bumped into everyone, rolling over on the 
ground at the slightest push and trying to make him- 
self into a hoop. There was no suppressing him 
when he felt that way; the Buffaloes had tried it 
often, but without success. He pretended to be a 
comic actor, a clown, a trained elephant, a society 
woman, all at one and the same time — until he got 
started playing hockey in winter or baseball in sum- 
mer, then he played the game for all he was worth. 

Duck and the Wise Guy had a lively spat at din- 
ner. Duck said it was imnatural for the Wise Guy 
to keep so quiet and that he must be planning a 
rebellion to make himself Scout-master in place of 
Mr. Grafton, just as Roman soldiers used to plot 
to become Emperor. The Wise Guy said that Duck 
could no more keep quiet for five minutes than he 
could dance a Highland Fling on skates. 

‘‘ Anybody could keep quiet five minutes,^' said 
Duck, “ and besides, I don’t see why anybody’d 
want to.” 

‘‘ I’ll bet you couldn’t,” challenged the Wise Guy. 

124 


THE STORM IN THE WOODS 

Bet you I could/' retorted Duck. ‘‘ Just you 
watch me." 

The Wise Guy propped his watch in front of him 
on the table. 

After three minutes Duck began to gurgle, like 
a smouldering volcano, and then to chuckle, and then 
to lau^h. The Wise Guy picked up his watch and 
put it back in his pocket. 

But laughing isn’t making a noise," protested 
Duck. Any more than eating or drinking is." 

“ Well, talking’s certainly making a noise," de- 
clared the Wise Guy. 

Regular lawyer you are," protested the other. 
“ Regular Shylock. I’d hate to have your disposi- 
tion." 

‘Tt isn’t for sale,’’ said the Wise Guy stiffly. 

“ I don’t know anyone who’d want to buy it," 
said Duck, and he began to laugh again, like a toy 
that’s been wound up a second time. 

“ Stick his head in the sugar-bowl ! ’’ exclaimed 
Max. Stuff a baked apple down his mouth," sug- 
gested Sam Potter. ‘‘ Looks just like one of those 
kids eating breakfast foods in the magazines," said 
Peter Swan. 


125 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


Duck stopped laughing abruptly ; the last sugges- 
tion was evidently not agreeable to him. I don^t 
think one scout ought to say a thing like that to 
another scout,’’ he objected. 

“ Oh, you’re a scout, are you? ” said Sam Potter. 
‘‘We weren’t sure what you were? ” 

“ Listen to the Grand High Cockalorum ! ” re- 
torted Duck, making his eyes look very large and 
round. Again he gurgled and chuckled and laughed ; 
there was no keeping him quiet when he had once 
started on the rampage. 

After dinner it was the turn of the Buffalo 
Patrol to go to Saulsbury for the mail and pro- 
visions. The sky had clouded over since morning, 
and the wind was humming and singing in the tree- 
tops, as if it were trying its voice and making ready 
for a louder song. Mr. Robins studied the sky 
from the lake-shore. “ I shouldn’t wonder if we 
got some snow before night,” he said. “ Mother 
Carey’s getting ready to pluck her chickens’ feathers. 
Don’t stop too long at the village, for though it’s 
good fun skating through snow when it’s falling, it 
isn’t such fun when it’s on the ice.” 


126 


THE STORM IN THE WOODS 


The Patrol started off, Duck in the lead, and 
before very long Skipper and Max and the Wise 
Guy had fallen to the rear, and were exchanging 
confidential remarks. The others were out of ear- 
shot. "‘We ought to get hold of Taplow to-day 
if we possibly can,’’ said Skipper. “ He may find 
the men himself and report to Mr. Satterlee and get 
the constables down here; or the men may take to 
their heels. I thought we could get away and see 
him this morning.” 

“ You’re right. Skip,” agreed Max. “We want 
to fix this thing up with him just as soon as we can.” 

“ We might drop behind a little more,” sug- 
gested the Wise Guy, “ and then when we come to 
his cabin stop a few minutes and tell him about it. 
We could make up some yam for the others when 
we met ’em at the village.” 

But before the three reached the cabin they heard 
Duck calling out, “ Oh, Mr. Taplow, oh, Mr. 
Taplow, come on out; the water’s fine.” Taplow 
didn’t appear or send back an answering shout, 
so the three scouts in the rear concluded that he was 
not at home. 


127 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


As usual there were a number of men loafing 
round the stove in the post-office when the Buffaloes 
arrived there. Ezra Whipple was telling the others 
how the United States Government ought to handle 
the Philippines, and it seemed to the scouts that he 
was making a very interesting and eloquent speech. 
When he saw the boys he nodded, and went r'ight 
on with his speech; only the larger audience seemed 
to stimulate him, because he talked a little louder 
and used more gestures. 

‘‘If you don’t mind my interruptin’, Ezra,” 
broke in the postmaster and store-keeper, who was 
one and the same person, “p’raps the boys’d like 
to get their mail or buy something if you’d give ’em 
a chance.” 

Mr. Whipple stopped right in the middle of a 
sentence, his hand outstretched in a very fine gesture. 
He looked at the scouts. “ Would you? ” he asked, 
and his voice sounded a trifle hurt. 

Philip spoke up promptly. “ We’ve got loads 
of time, and I’m sure we’d like to hear the rest of 
the speech.” 

The orator looked very much plelased. He 
glanced at the postmaster as if to say, “I hope 
128 


THE STORM IN THE WOODS 


that’ll be a lesson to you about butting in on me 
again,” and then, with remarkable skill, he took up 
the sentence just where he had been interrupted, and 
finished it with a loud and eloquent flourish. He 
might have talked for the rest of the day if two men 
who sat by the stove hadn’t begun to move their 
chairs about and open and shut the stove-door and 
give other signs that they would like to make a 
little noise themselves. But he did make a fine 
climax, one hand stretched out before him and the 
other tucked in the front of his coat, like the pictures 
of Webster and Clay and other famous statesmen. 

He’s some orator,” Duck whispered behind his 
hand to Skipper. Wish we had him at school to 
speak pieces when it’s my turn to spout.” 

Philip got the mail and bought the supplies, and 
then the boys went out on the porch, followed by 
the postmaster and Ezra Whipple. Snow had be- 
gun to fall, and the wind had risen. ‘‘ It looks to me 
like a sure-enough storm, boys,” said the postmas- 
ter. “ There’s one due along just about this time.” 

Mr. Whipple was eying the sky and the woods 
and the lake with the air of a weather-prophet of 
vast experience. ‘‘ Might even be a blizzard,” he 

9 129 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


announced. I don’t like the looks of them lower 
clouds. Better be gettin’ along, boys, while the goin’s 
good.” 

They started off at once, Philip drawing the 
sled on which the provisions were strapped. There 
was not yet enough snow to make skating difficult, 
but the wind whipped the icy particles into the boys’ 
faces and stung them like bits of fire. They were 
skating against the storm, and that was no easy 
matter, and every little while the wind would make 
a whirlpool of the snow and send it circling about 
them so that it almost twisted them from their path 
and made them gasp for breath. The woods on 
either shore were almost blotted out, the ice ahead 
was a blurred grey-white mass. And now so much 
snow had fallen that skating grew harder and 
harder, and the effort to push the runners through 
the clogging mass tired them more and more with 
each stride. 

‘‘I wonder if the woods would be better?” 
Duck shouted to Philip. 

‘‘ No, worse,” was the answer. “ We’d lose our 
way. Stick to the ice.” 


130 


THE STORM IN THE WOODS 


!A.gain Max and the Wise Guy and Skipper were 
skating close together. I think/’ said the Wise 
Guy, ^'some of us oughf to see Taplow to-day. 
You’re the newest recruit, Max ; so I think Skipper 
and I ought to stop at Taplow’s cabin, and you go 
on with the others. If the storm gets worse we can 
stay with him, and you can tell Mr. Grafton where 
we are. Say we wanted to ask Taplow’s advice 
about something. He may have found that house 
to-day, and we don’t want to run any risk.” 

^‘All right,” answered Max. “I’ll tell ’em 
where you are if you get snowed in.” 

The wind whirled down again, spun the biting 
snow about them, held them almost at a standstill 
as they bent forward trying to force their skates 
ahead. Philip’s sled was now a small white moun- 
tain, and Duck had caught hold of the rope to help 
him pull it. The others were ploughing along close 
behind these two, for in such a storm it would be 
dangerous for one to lose touch with the rest. They 
were keeping fairly close to the right bank, for the 
trees gave them a little shelter there, and there was 

not so much danger of losing their way. Yet, close 
131 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


as they were, the Wise Guy and Skipper had to keep 
a sharp lookout lest they should go past Taplow’s 
little bay and projecting point of land. 

At last Skipper, who was skating nearer to the 
shore, caught the Wise Guy’s sleeve. The Wise 
Guy slowed up, looked closely at the woods to the 
right, and nodded. In an instant the other scouts 
were lost from sight in the whirling, blinding curtain 
of snow. 

The two boys made their way to shore, and 
without stopping to take off their skates, crossed the 
few yards that lay between the ice and Taplow’s 
cabin. They pounded on the door with their fists. 
After a minute or two the door opened a crack, 
and the hunter’s voice demanded, “ Who is it ? ” 
A couple of scouts,” answered Skipper. The 
door opened a little wider, and the two boys went in. 

They looked like two snow men, covered from 
head to foot with the white flakes. The sudden 
warmth stung their cheeks and noses, which was 
about all of their faces that WcLS visible. Skipper 
sat down in a chair and the Wise Guy on a box 
that stood by the door, for both were almost ex- 
hausted by their battle with the wind. 

132 


THE STORM IN THE WOODS 


While they were getting back their breath 
Taplow threw a big log on the fire. Then he got 
out a kettle and prepared to brew some tea. ‘‘ It's 
a blizzard, sure enough," he announced, “ and I’m 
thinkin’ you two’d better spend the night with me. 
Was there any more o’ you out on the lake just 
now ? ’’ 

The rest of our patrol,’’ said Skipper, but 
they went on with the supplies. They’ll make camp 
all right, and we told one of ’em we’d be here if we 
didn’t show up to-iiight.’’ 

‘‘ Then here you stop,’’ said the hunter, for 
this storm’s going to be worse before it’s better, 
and I shouldn’t want to be goin’ down the lake to 
your camp myself. It’s mighty easy to get numbed 
out in that air.’’ He got a frying-pan, sliced some 
bacon, and made other preparations for supper. I 
reckon you thought you owed me a call ’bout this 
time,’’ he went on, genially. So you did. When 
you’re rested a mite, take off your coats and shoes, 
and warm yourselves at the fire.’’ 

Soon the two boys were sitting on the floor, 
toasting their feet. Taplow gave each a steaming 
hot cup of tea, and when they had drunk that they 
133 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


began to feel like themselves again. They chattered 
away about all sorts of things while Taplow set up 
a folding table and arranged the supper dishes. 
Then the three ate, the two boys almost as hungrily 
as wolves that had been roving over a winter prairie. 
All the time the wind screeched and howled around 
the stout log-cabin and sang tunes down the chimney. 

“ Pretty snug, eh? ” said the hunter, when they 
had finished supper and had drawn their chairs in 
front of the fire. ‘‘ A storm ain^t so bad when you’re 
indoors, with plenty of fuel and food. But it ain’t 
no picnic out in the woods. It beats all how quick 
you can lose your bearings in a country you know 
almost as well as the back o’ your hand, when the 
snow starts to drift over roads and trails. I’ve been 
in some pretty tight squeezes out in the Caribou 
.country, when you had to run like a bull moose be- 
fore the blizzard, or you wouldn’t run at all. It 
didn’t do to stop, no sir-ee! Jest keep a-runnin’, 
and don’t think o’ nothin’ else. They call a storm 
like that the White Wolf of the North up in the 
Caribou country, and when you hear that wolf 
howlin’ at your back you want to start makin'’ 
tracks.” 


134 


THE STORM IN THE WOODS 


The Wise Guy tossed a chip of wood on to the 
fire. “ We’ve got something to tell you,” he said. 
“ But before we do tell you we’d like you to promise 
us something. Will you let the troop help you 
handle it ? ” 

We’re sure the troop could make good,” put 
in Skipper, *^and it’d be such a wonderful thing 
for them.” 

From what IVe seen of you scouts, I reckon 
you could handle anything,” said Taplow, with 
a broad grin. ‘‘ It sotmds mighty mysterious ; but 
I promise to let you help me handle it, so far’s I’m 
concerned.” 

Very well then,” said the Wise Guy. “ We’ve 
found some men who are trapping beavers and other 
animals on Mr. Satterlee’s land. We’ve seen the 
skins, we’ve seen one of the men with a trap, and 
we know where they’re staying. We don’t know 
how many there are in the gang, but we’d like to help 
in the round-up.” 

‘‘Didn’t I say you was pretty clever?” ex- 
claimed Taplow, slapping his leg. “ I knew that 
somebody was settin’ traps, but I hadn’t sighted 
who. Now you come along with the whole thing 
135 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


worked up to the Queen’s taste. Well, spiel away.” 

The Wise Guy told him what Skipper and Max 
and he had seen, and described the men as accurately 
as he could. Taplow, smoking his pipe, listened 
attentively, nodding his head from time to time. 

I suppose you’ll have to tell Mr. Satterlee,” 
the Wise Guy concluded, “ but I don’t see why you 
and the troop couldn’t round up that gang without 
any outside help.” 

“ An’ I don’t neither,” agreed Taplow. Fve 
got full authority of the law to make arrests on this 
land. I’m a special officer. See.” He unbuttoned 
his coat and showed them a small badge fastened to 
his vest. 

Then they discussed the best plans for making 
the capture. They won’t get any more skins till 
this storm’s over,” said Taplow at last. ‘‘ I reckon 
they’re safe enough for a day or two.” He 
shook his head. It’s mighty bad business, boys. 
Shootin’ game is one thing, but trappin’ it is an- 
other. A fox or a lynx or a wild-cat gets its foot 
in a trap, and sometimes it stays there for days. I 
used to do it; but I wouldn’t do it again. It ain’t 
right to make poor animals suffer as I’ve seen ’em 

136 


THE STORM IN THE WOODS 


suffer in traps, jest to get skins for folks to wear 
in the cities. It ain’t decent. You can’t call it 
sport. Go out and hunt if you like, but don’t catch 
a beast in a trap and let him stay there.” He brought 
his hand down on his knee with a resounding slap. 

No, sir-ee, don’t you never do that! ” 

I think you’re right,” said Skipper. “ It seems 
very mean to me.” 

The wind was still howling outside, though every 
once in a while it would stop for a moment or two, 
as though it were getting its breath for its next out- 
burst. In these pauses there came queer soimds from 
the woods, not quite like the call of any beast or 
bird. Once the Wise Guy asked what a certain noise 
might be, and Taplow smiled. Sounds as if it 
might be an owl, don’t it? ” said he. When folks 
hear a noise they don’t know in the woods they 
almost always think it must be an owl ; but most often 
it’s trees rubbin’ against each other. When you 
can’t locate a sound or be sure where it comes from, 
it’s pretty nigh certain to be two trees scrapin’ their 
limbs together. There’s a lot o’ that to-night. 
When you get used to it it’s a right comfortable sort 
o’ sound.” 


137 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


The storm certainly made the cabin seem un- 
usually comfortable, although once or twice the 
scouts almost expected the wind to pick the house 
up and hurl it head over heels through the forest 
or on to the lake. Every little while Taplow would 
say, ‘‘ I shouldn’t want to be out to-night,” and 
then he would puff at his pipe, and tell some more 
about his hunts for moose up in Nova Scotia and 
New Brunswick. 

When he saw the boys were getting very sleepy 
the hunter got up and took some furs and blankets 
from a big chest in one corner. ‘‘ I have visitors 
sometimes,” said he, ‘‘ and I’ve got some extra 
bedding always ready. My own bunk ain’t any 
better than these things, or I’d offer it to you. How- 
somever, I don’t think you’d find it hard to sleep on 
the bare floor to-night.” 

He arranged two very inviting-looking beds, and 
fixed the fire for the night. The Wise Guy went over 
to the front door and opened it a crack. Snow 
was falling as thick as ever, and he had to throw his 
whole weight against the door to shut it against the 
wind. Looks as if we might be snowed in by 
138 


THE STORM IN THE WOODS 


morning/* he declared. Fve always wanted to find 
out what being snow-bound was like.” 

Taplow chuckled. Well, I reckon you’re goin’ 
to find out all right,” said he. It ain’t so bad 
when you’re stocked up for it ; but it generally means 
an awful lot of shovelin’ next day.” ' 

The two boys and Taplow were soon asleep, 
while the wind went on howling through the woods. 


X 

THE STOLEN PROVISIONS 

It was Taplow who woke them the next morn- 
ing, as he moved about, stirring up the fire and mak- 
ing breakfast ready. The windows toward the lake 
were banked with snow ; from the others they could 
catch a glimpse of a wonderful ice network over 
the trees, looking as if some one must have been 
very busy throwing sparkling strands of silver from 
bough to bough. The wind had stopped and the 
snow was no longer falling. The cabin was cold, 
and the boys jumped up, rubbed their arms and legs, 
and pummelled each other in an effort to get warm. 
Their clothes were now warm and dry, and by the 
time they were dressed breakfast was ready. After- 
wards it only took a few minutes for them to help 
Taplow clean up plates and pots and pans. 

Snow had drifted high against the door of the 
cabin. When they looked out they found that the 
air was very cold, but wonderfully clear, and 
through the frost-bound branches they could see the 

140 


THE STOLEN PROVISIONS 

smooth white expanse of the lake. It was a beauti- 
ful sight, as fresh and sparkling and white as though 
some great artist had just that moment finished 
painting it. All three drew in deep breaths of the 
fine air. Pretty nice, eh? said Taplow. Well, 
a storm surely does clean things up, though it makes 
an awful rumpus doin’ it. Like a woman doin’ her 
spring house-cleanin’, makes things fly, but the place 
does look better afterwards.” 

They found three shovels, and started to make 
a path from the cabin to the lake. That was good, 
hard work, calling for a lot of muscle, because there 
was plenty of snow; but the three worked so well 
that they had the path cleared in a short time. 

When I get to the lake,” said the hunter, “ I 
somehow feel as if I’d got to the highroad. If you 
can’t go along it by canoe or sailboat, you can almost 
always travel over it on skates or snow-shoes.” 

Taplow had several pairs of snow-shoes in his 
cabin. He had made these himself and was. very 
proud of his handiwork. Now he brought them out 
and invited the boys to put them on. Then, with 
their skates thrown over their shoulders, their staffs 
141 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


in their hands, they set out with him down the lake. 

The snow was splendid for travelling in this 
way. Both shores of the lake, decorated with gar- 
lands and loops of ice, looked quite unreal. At 
places, where there were little bays and the bank 
rose high, the snow was piled in huge drifts, and 
formed beautiful curves and sweeps. They went 
along at a good steady pace until they sighted the 
flagpole that stood in front of the Lodge. I see 
your camp's standin' on its feet to-day,” said 
Taplow, so I'm goin' to leave you here. I've got 
to get up to the village. I'll make my arrangements 
for the round-up we planned last night, and as 
soon as I tip you the signal you be ready to take the 
trail. Glad you dropped in last night; do it again 
whenever you're in the neighborhood, storm or no 
storm. So long.”^ 

The two scouts went on to the bank in front of 
their camp. The rest of the troop were working like 
beavers, shovelling snow, using shovels or boards 
or whatever would serve. They had made pretty 
good progress and already had a fair-sized space 
cleared. “ Scouts ahoy ! '' cried Skipper. ‘‘ It looks 
like an Esquimaux igloo, with all the little villagers 

142 


THE STOLEN PROVISIONS 


at work ! ” He stepped up on the bank. Well, I 
brought the Wise Guy through the storm all right, 
but there was one time when I thought you’d have 
to send the St. Bernards out to rescue him. He 
started to talk, and the snow went down his throat, 
and almost filled him up. I had to stand him on his 
head and shake him.” 

Meantime the Wise Guy was making his report 
to the Scout-master. Then he joined Philip and 
Duck and Sam Potter, who were digging the snow 
away in front of the storehouse. Got the pro- 
visions home all right, did you, Phil? ” he said, jok- 
ingly. It was pretty hard skating through that 
snow, even without pulling a sled behind you.” 

Philip stopped his work, and leaned on his shovel. 
“ We got the provisions home all right,” said he, 
and then they vanished.” 

The Wise Guy looked surprised. ‘‘ Vanished? ” 
he echoed. You don’t mean they walked off by 
themselves? ” 

“ Well,” said Philip, ‘‘ they vanished ; though I 
think they were helped. When we got down here 
to camp last night we were pretty nearly ready to 
sit down and rest awhile. A fire sounded good, and 
143 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


the rest of the patrol made for the big cabin as fast 
as they could. Duck and I had the sled, and we 
stopped when we came to the bank, because we were 
pretty nearly out of breath fighting that wind, and 
it's quite a tug to get that sled, loaded as it was, 
up that foot of bank. Duck’s hands were nearly 
frozen, and I said, ‘ Cut along in and send some- 
body who’s fresh out here to help with the sled.’ He 
hadn’t more than started for the lodge when a 
couple of men, going up the lake bn skis, stopped 
by me. They were covered with snow, and about 
all I could see was the tips of their noses. ‘ Got a 
load of provisions, have you? ’ asked one. I nodded. 
‘ Looks like a blizzard,’ said the other. ‘ We’re out 
of matches ; could you let us have a box ? ’ My 
hands were so cold that about all I could think of 
was getting indoors to that fire, so I said, ‘ Sure, I’ll 
get you a box,’ and made for the cabin, lickety-split. 
Dick took the box of matches out; but he couldn’t 
find any men — or any provisions. Then we had a 
search party, but the sled had vanished, and the snow 
was falling so thick you couldn’t see ten yards 
away.” 

The Wise Guy was very much interested. ‘‘ You 

144 


THE STOLEN PROVISIONS 


couldn’t tell me what the men looked like, could 
you? ” he asked. 

I didn’t have a real good look at them,” an- 
swered Philip. “ I was thinking more about getting 
my fingers warm.” 

The Wise Guy nodded. I suppose so,” he said 
in a tone of voice that implied that he could hardly 
expect anything more from a fellow like Philip. 

And you’d have been thinking about the same 
thing if you’d been in my place,” Philip retorted. 

I suppose so,” repeated the Wise Guy, but there 
was a touch of sarcasm in his words. 

And I suppose so, too,” said Sam Potter, posi- 
tively, and as if he were coming to Philip’s aid. I 
daresay you think you know who the men were and 
where the sled is now, Mr. Sherlock Holmes ? ” 
The Wise Guy gave him a quick look, but said 
nothing ; and after a few minutes strolled away. He 
contrived in the most innocent manner to convey 
some message to Skipper and Max by means of one 
of his eloquent winks and a jerk of his thumb, and 
before long the three were holding a private confer- 
ence in the Buffaloes’ cabin. 

10 145 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


The troop were still at dinner when a messenger 
on snow-shoes arrived from Mr. Satterlee with an 
invitation to them all to come up to the Castle as soon 
as they could. A house-party of guests had arrived 
at his place the afternoon before, and he wanted 
the scouts to join them in some runs down his long 
toboggan slide. The invitation was accepted with 
a unanimous whoop, and as soon as dinner was fin- 
ished the whole troop, including the Scout-master 
and Mr. Robins, buckled on their snow-shoes and 
tramped up the lake. 

Mr. Satterlee and his guests were out on the 
toboggan run, which was a splendid long one, wind- 
ing down his hill, with several exciting turns. Men 
had been at work on it all the morning, and it was 
in excellent shape, the curves banked like the corners 
of a bicycle track, so that the coasters took them at 
the right angle. 

Besides Mr. Satterlee there were five men and 
three women in the party, and these people and the 
scouts were divided up into teams of fours. There 
was a starter at the top of the run, and a timer, with 
a stop-watch, at the bottom, and the second tobog- 
gan wasn’t allowed to start until the timer waved 
146 


THE STOLEN PROVISIONS 


a flag to signal that the coast was clear. The differ- 
ent teams chose names ; Dick called his the ‘‘ Snow 
Bunnies/' Mr. Robins, who was captain of a team 
that included a very pretty girl in a corduroy suit 
and black fur toque, named his the ‘‘ Mock-Turtles." 
Sandy Simmons guided the Humpty Dumpties," 
and a very tall man named Edward Hackett, who 
had done a lot of coasting in Switzerland, christened 
his four mates the Chamois Hunters." 

All the teams took a lot of practice runs, and 
some of them bumped on the curves and ran off the 
track, and two or three were spilled out into the 
snow near the end of the slide. All of them cheered 
and yelled, to make their toboggans go faster, and 
the noise could have been heard a mile away. A team 
made up of Mr. Hackett, Duck, Sandy Sirnmons, 
and Jack Knowlton, one of the Blue Herons, was the 
best in all the practice runs. They swung together 
like one man when they went round the curves, and 
they kept their toboggan leaping over the snow at 
the foot of the course far beyond most of the others. 
But the Mock-Turtles " were almost as good. The 
girl who sat back of Mr. Robins balanced herself as 

147 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


well as any man, and Mr. Robins was a splendid 
steersman. 

The contest narrowed down to these two teams, 
and in the final runs everybody else went down to the 
foot of the slope to see them finish. The Chamois 
Hunters ” sped along at top speed, but in rounding 
a corner they swung a little too far, and lost several 
seconds in getting back into the straightest course. 
Then came the Mock-Turtles,’’ business-like, 
all swinging together, zipping round comers, gliding 
over hummocks, shooting like an arrow over the 
smooth run at the foot of the hill. They dashed 
far beyond the finish line, all cheering, and then 
Mr. Robins failed to see a hummock, struck it, and 
the toboggan sent its four riders bowling over into 
a great bank of snow. Max happened to be near 
at hand, and he ran to the aid of the pretty girl 
in the corduroy suit. She was laughing, however, 
and didn’t seem particularly inclined to get up. Then 
Mr. Robins came mnning up. I’m so sorry,” said 
he. “ That was awfully clumsy of me. I’m afraid 
you’ll never want to toboggan with me again.” 

Max was surprised to see that the girl laughed 
harder than ever, although the affair didn’t seem so 
148 


THE STOLEN PROVISIONS 


very funny to him. Then she held out a mittened 
hand to Mr. Robins, and said, ‘‘ Help me up, and 
I'll forgive you the upsetting." This also seemed 
odd to Max, because when he had seized her by the 
arms in an effort to help her up she had pulled herself 
away. Mr. Robins helped her up very carefully, and 
said, ‘‘ Then you will take another coast with me? " 
The girl smiled and nodded her head, and Mr. 
Robins looked very much pleased. Max walked 
away as if he hadn't noticed anything in particular, 
but when he came to Dick he remarked in a low tone, 
‘‘ Keep an eye on that young woman in the black fur 
cap. She's got Mr. Robins on a string; and I 
shouldn't wonder if she made him elope with her." 

‘‘ Huh," grunted Dick, ‘‘ it isn't likely a girl 
like that could bowl over a man like Mr. Robins the 
first time she's met him." 

‘‘It doesn't seem likely," agreed Max; “but 
she's not so bad looking when you get a good view 
of her, and she beats any old Cheshire Cat when it 
comes to smiling." 

“ It'd take a lot more than smiling to catch a 
man who can play baseball as well as Mr. Robins 
does," observed Dick decidedly. Nevertheless he 
149 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


did keq) a pretty watchful eye on the Assistant 
Scout-master and the girl in the corduroy suit. ‘ 

When they got back to the crowd at the finish- 
line, the time-keeper announced that the ‘‘ Mock 
Turtles ” had made the best time for the run, and 
presented their captain, Mr. Robins, with a tiny 
birch-bark toy toboggan fastened to a blue ribbon, 
which Mr. Robins, with a gallant bow, immediately 
presented to the girl who had sat back of him. She 
looked very much pleased, and pinned the tiny tobog- 
gan on her jacket. 

Then they all went to another side of the hill, 
where Mr. Hackett gave them an exhibition of ski- 
jumping. He chose a level place and stuck a couple 
of poles in the ground to mark it for his take-off. 
With his skis firmly fastened he went back some 
distance, and then came tearing down the incline, 
his feet well set, his knees bent, and his eyes fixed 
on the place he had marked with the poles. When he 
reached that place he sprang forward, leaping out 
into the air, steadied himself as he shot forward, and 
then dropped like a hawk on to the slope of the hill 
far below the take-off. He landed beautifully, his 
right foot a little in advance of his left, both point- 

150 


THE STOLEN PROVISIONS 


ing straight in front, with his knees hardly bent. 
Then he slid down on to the level snow at the base 
of the hill while every one cheered. It was a thrill- 
ing sight, but he did it so easily that very few of the 
scouts realized how much practice it had taken be- 
fore he could jump and land in the right way. 
Some of those who were good on skis tried little 
jumps from the take-off, and almost all of them 
lost their balance, waved their arms as they jumped, 
or twisted their skis as they landed, and consequently 
usually plunged into the snow-bank, and sent up a 
cloud of light, powdery snow. Dick heard Mr. 
Robins say to the girl in corduroy, ‘‘ Eve half a 
mind to try that myself. It looked very easy as 
Hackett did it.'’ 

‘‘ He's practised a lot up in Canada," she said. 
‘‘ Don't try that long jump. It's very easy to twist 
your ankle doing it, and then you won't be able to 
skate, and I want you to skate with me." From the 
comer of his eye Dick could see that she was smil- 
ing at the Assistant Scout-master. 

‘‘ Well, if there's any chance of my losing that 
pleasure by ski-jumping," said Mr. Robins, ‘‘ I cer- 
tainly won't try it." From the comer of his eye 

151 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


Dick saw that Mr. Robins also was smiling at her. 

Dick didn’t like this weakness on Mr. Robins’ 
part, so he walked away a short distance, and then 
came back, as if by chance. Come on, Mr. Robins,” 
he said, “ let’s try this new game.” He went to 
the starting place, put on a pair of skis, took a run, 
and jumped — landing like a jack-rabbit on all fours 
in a drift. He wondered if he had twisted his 
ankle, but found that he hadn’t. He felt that he had 
shamed Mr. Robins, however; and when he came up 
to that man he said banteringly, Why, Mr. Robins, 
why didn’t you come on ? ” 

Hello, Dick,” said the latter, “ why. I’d rather 
try to cut ice where I am than cut figures of eight in 
the air.” At that the girl and Mr. Robins both 
laughed, as if he had made a real joke. Dick shook 
his head as he walked away ; he could see that there 
was really something in what Max had pointed out 
to him. 

When everyone who wanted to try the ski-jump- 
ing had had a chance the whole party returned to 
the Castle, and there the scouts warmed themselves 
and rested before the fire in the big hall, while Mr. 
Satterlee’s house-guests went to their rooms and 

152 


THE STOLEN PROVISIONS 


changed into other clothes. When the guests came 
down they looked quite different, and Dick had to 
admit that the rosy-cheeked girl with the black hair, 
who had changed her corduroy suit for a soft blue 
gown, was really worth looking at. Mr. Robins evi- 
dently thought so, too. ‘‘ I never saw anything 
so becoming. Miss Parrish,’’ he said. “You look 
like an old picture.” Dick supposed that Mr. Robins 
meant that to be a compliment, but he himself 
thought she looked much prettier than any old pict- 
ure he had ever seen. 

They had a stand-up supper, sandwiches and cold 
meats and salads served from a long table in the big 
hall. Afterwards the Scout-master said it was time 
they started back to the Lodge. There was a young 
moon, and the sky was fairly bright when they all 
went out on the terrace. The Wise Guy got hold of 
Skipper and Max, and whispered to them, “ I want 
to go round by Beaver Pond and see if that missing 
sled isn’t lying near that house. I’m going to ask 
Mr. Grafton if he minds if the three of us take our 
own road back to camp.” 

Mr. Grafton was in a very good humor, and 
agreed to the Wise Guy’s proposition. “ I think you 

153 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


three are big enough to take care of yourselves/’ said 
he, ‘‘ but don’t spend every night at Dan’l Taplow’s. 
You’ll eat him out of house and home.” 

So when the troop came to the village the Wise 
Guy and Max and Skipper turned off to the right, 
while the others struck out on their snow-shoes over 
the lake toward the lodge. 


XI 

THE HOUSE NEAR THE BEAVER POND 

Skipper and the Wise Guy and Max snow-shoed 
along Greenapple Pike until they reached the neigh- 
borhood of Beaver Pond, and then struck across- 
country in the direction of the house where the trap- 
pers were supposed to be hiding. It was a very clear 
night, and the small crescent moon and the stars gave 
considerable light, so that it was easy for the scouts 
to see their way. By this time they knew the way 
well, and followed it without difficulty as it wound 
through the woods and eventually brought them to 
the open space that framed the old house. There 
were no lights in windows on the boys’ side of the 
house. The place looked even more deserted and 
quiet than when they had first seen it, because now 
the snow was banked up high about the porch and the 
meadow in front was a great white plain. It was 
a tempting place to reconnoiter. 

In single-file, so as not to leave too much of a 
track, the Wise Guy leading, the three scouts went 

155 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


across the snow toward the front steps of the house. 
Every few steps they stopped to listen and to look 
about them. There were only the usual night-noises 
of the woods, an owl hooting perhaps somewhere in 
the distance, trees rubbing against each other in the 
wind. The boys went up to the front of the house, 
and found the snow had drifted so high about it that 
the porch was not much above where they stood. 
The Wise Guy nodded his head and pointed to some- 
thing on the porch close to the front door. The 
others looked and saw that it was a sled. 

That’s our sled, Tm sure,” whispered the Wise 
Guy. Now we know who took the provisions. 
But Em going to make certain, so we can swear it’s 
our sled if we have to give evidence about it.” ' 
He went to the steps, slipped his feet out of the 
snow-shoes, and climbed up to the porch. Silently 
he tiptoed over to where the sled stood and bent down 
to identify it. Meantime Max and Skipper had 
perched on the lowest step, and were watching their 
leader’s movements. 

Hello ! ” called out some one back of them, 
“ what’s all this ? 


156 


THE HOUSE NEAR THE BEAVER POND 


Trying to rob the house, are they, the young 
scamps ! ’’ exclaimed a second voice. 

The three scouts turned round, to find themselves 
cornered by two men on skis, who had come silently 
across the snow while they were investigating the 
sled. 

You needn’t try to cut and run,” said the nearer 
of the men. We want to find out first what you’ve 
been doing in our house.” 

‘‘ We haven’t been in your house,” said Skipper. 
‘‘ I suppose anybody has a right to look at the porch 
of a house.” 

‘‘ But why would anybody want to? ” demanded 
the first speaker. He pressed a small electric torch 
that he held in his hand and its circle of light showed 
the Wise Guy’s snow-shoes lying on the snow. And 
want to enough to take off their snow-shoes to 
climb up on it ? ” he added. 

Well,” said the Wise Guy, seeing that he must 
make some explanation, and deciding that the true 
one would be the best, we thought this sled might 
be one that was missing from our camp over on the 
lake, and I wanted to make sure. It’s the same one, 
only it had a bundle of provisions strapped on it.” 

157 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


‘‘ It’s funny you’d think of looking for it ’way 
over here,” said the man, and at this time of night, 
too. We found that sled out on the pike this morn- 
ing, and fetched it along with us. If it’s yours, take 
it and clear out.” 

The Wise Guy picked up the sled and was start- 
ing down the steps when the other man spoke up 
suddenly. ‘‘ Hold on there. Have you ever been 
over in this neighborhood before? Have you ever 
come prowling round this house? ” 

The question was such a direct one that the Wise 
Guy couldn’t help answering it. “We came over 
here one day when we w:ere off on a hike,” he said. 
“ You see, it’s part of a scout’s job to explore the 
country where he happens to be staying.” 

“ Remember how you found those footprints 
round the place. Bill ? ” said the shorter man. “ It 
looked as if somebody’d been prowlin’ round here 
considerably.” 

At this point there came an interruption, the 
door of the house was thrown open, and a man’s 
voice demanded, “ What you jawin’ about out there, 
Sam ? Did you get any skins this time? ” 

Sam, the shorter of the two men, chuckled. 

158 


THE HOUSE NEAK THE BEAVER POND 


“ Not this time,” said he, “ but maybe in the morn- 
ing. Talking of skins, howsomever, reminds me 
that we have caught three young fellows here who 
say they’re scouts, and I think we might give ’em a 
room for the night. As we were going on to-morrow 
anyhow, we could let ’em have the house if they like 
its looks. That’s a fair invitation. You spend the 
night with us, and that’ll save you a long walk home 
now.” His tone was pleasant enough, but each of 
the three boys, thoroughly understanding the situa- 
tion, realized that the man was suspicious of them, 
feared lest they should have seen traps or skins and 
might take word of it to Taplow or Mr. Satterlee, 
and also appreciated the fact that he wanted to keep 
them under watch until the poachers could make 
good their escape. Max and Skipper looked at the 
Wise Guy, who seemed to be their spokesman. 

‘‘ You’re very kind,” said he, ‘‘ but we’re ex- 
pected to be back at the camp to-night.” Then, as a 
clever afterthought, he added, ‘‘They might start 
out to hunt for us if we didn’t show up.” 

The two men in front of them had by now evi- 
dently made up their minds how to handle the situa- 
tion. “ No, you stay here to-night,” said the one 

159 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


called Bill. ‘‘ We’ve got plenty of room, and you’ll 
find it better travelling in the morning.” 

His tone of voice was no longer an invitation, but 
a command. Moreover the two men on skis were 
standing where they could block off any attempt at 
escape, and the third man had now crossed the porch 
and was in a good position to seize the Wise Guy 
if he made any resistance. 

“ Might as well take off those snow-shoes and 
come in and be comfortable,” said Sam. Had your 
supper yet?” 

‘‘ Yes, we’ve had supper,” answered Max pleas- 
antly enough, realizing that they might as well take 
the situation as amiably as they could. He slipped 
his feet out from the thongs of the snow-shoes, and 
so did Skipper, and the three scouts followed Sam 
through the front door. 

The room to the right of the door was lighted 
by a couple of candles, and here three men were sit- 
ting close to a small stove, smoking pipes. They 
looked very much surprised when the three scouts 
were ushered in, but nodded as Sam explained that 
they were going to spend the night there. Then 
the two men who had caught the boys came into the 
160 


THE HOUSE NEAR THE BEAVER POND 


room, and the Wise Guy immediately recognized 
them as the two Max and he had met on Greenapple 
Pike; Bill was the man in the bearskin cap who had 
been carrying the trap. 

There were plenty of chairs in the room, and 
at the suggestion of the man who had come out on 
the porch, a man called Pollard, the boys sat down. 
For a short time they all talked about the storm and 
about the prospects for somewhat milder weather; 
then Sam began to yawn, and when once he started 
that all the rest were soon copying him. ‘‘ Guess 
we’re all about ready for bed,” said Pollard. I’ll 
show you boys up to the guest room.” He seemed 
to enjoy the joke, because he laughed as he added, 
‘‘We haven’t got hot and cold water runnin’ in the 
pipes, but we’ve got plenty of furs to keep you 
warm.” 

He led the boys up-stairs to a good-sized room 
at the rear of the second story. “ Wait here a min- 
ute and I’ll fetch you some bed-things,” he said, 
and going out returned after a minute with an arm- 
ful of blankets and heavy rugs. 

Pollard had set a candle down on a small table 
when he first showed them into the room. Now 
' 11 


161 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


he picked up the candlestick and carefully looked 
about him. There were two windows, one on the 
west and one on the south side. These were partly 
boarded over on the outside. The man regarded 
them thoughtfully, and then said, “ You’ll want 
some fresh air in here — ^but not too much,” he added, 
winking at Skipper, who happened to be standing 
nearest to him. Wait a minute.” He left the 
room again, and this time returned with a hammer 
and some nails. 

He opened each of the windows in turn about a 
foot, and then nailed the window- frame to the sill. 
Plenty of fresh air came in that way, and yet it would 
have been difficult for any one to get through the 
window. You see we really want you boys to 
stay,” he said when he’d finished this work. Now 
make yourselves comfortable, and if you want any- 
thing just pound on that wall. Sam and I sleep next 
door, and we’re real light sleepers.” He smiled 
again at his little joke, and saying good-night in a 
friendly fashion, left the room. The boys heard a 
key turn in the lock outside. 

The three looked at each other and grinned. It 
was a new experience for them, and they were 
162 


THE HOUSE NEAR THE BEAVER POND 


amused as well as chagrined to find how the tables 
had been turned on them. They stood at the window 
farthest from the door and whispered. “ They sus- 
pect that we're on to what they’ve been doing,” 
whispered Max. Maybe they think we’ve seen the 
skins in that room downstairs; and they’re afraid 
we’d give the secret away right off the bat.” 

To which Skipper added, ‘‘ I think they mean to 
keep us here till they’ve made another round of their 
traps to-morrow, and then they mean to beat it away 
from here, perhaps over the border into Canada.” 

The Wise Guy nodded his head. “ That’s what 
I think, too,” he whispered. 

‘Mf that’s so,” said Skipper, ‘'then they will 
get away with their plunder unless Taplow happens 
to come here, and that’s not very likely, when he 
promised to let us help him.” 

“ Mr. Grafton’ll probably think we’re staying at 
Taplow ’s again,” whispered Max. “ Anyway he 
wouldn’t be apt to hit on this place.” 

“Well,” suggested the Wise Guy, “let’s take 
a good look ’round.” 

The three scouts made sure that the door was 
locked ; then they examined the windows, and found 
163 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


that the boards outside had been very securely fas- 
tened and that it would be impossible even to try 
to break through them without making such a noise 
as would rouse Pollard and Sam. He was pretty 
clever/’ whispered Max; “ there’s nothing doing by 
way of the windows.” 

The two windows and the door seemed the only 
possible ways to get out of the room, and neither 
could be used. Further investigation with the can- 
dle only showed a small closet, built under the slant 
of the roof. This didn’t promise any exit, and after 
examining it, they sat down on the pile of bedding 
to consider the problem. They heard men going up- 
stairs to the other rooms, talk they could not make 
out, and presently the sound of snoring in the room 
next door. 

After some time Max got up, and taking the 
candle, went into the little closet under the slanting 
roof. When he came back he whispered to the other 
two to go with him. Holding the candle close to the 
ceiling he showed them where the boards of the roof 
seemed to be cut in the shape of a square. He pulled 
out his scout’s knife and slipped it into each of the 
four cracks and moved it up and down. ‘‘ There’s 
164 


THE HOUSE NEAR THE BEAVER POND 


just a couple of thin pieces of board holding that 
square of wood/’ he whispered. I think we can 
saw through them and push that board away from 
the roof; and over in this corner we wouldn’t be 
likely to make enough noise to attract attention. I’m 
going to try it.” He started in to saw through the 
shingles, working away for some time before he let 
the Wise Guy take his place. 

The house was very quiet, but by keeping the 
door of the closet partly shut and being very careful 
not to make any unnecessary noise as they sawed, 
they disturbed no one. The three took turns; for- 
tunately their knives were sharp, and the shingles 
were old and weather-worn; it did not take very long 
to cut through the wood, and then, as Max gave a 
good push against the square section of boarding 
the latter flew up, fell into the snow that lay on the 
roof, and gave them a glimpse of the night sky. 
The boys waited, listening intently for any sound 
in the next room. The snow had muffled the fall 
of the section of boarding, and it had made no more 
noise than when one of the shutters blew against 
the wall. 


165 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


“ It's all right,” muttered the Wise Guy. Now 
we’d better see what the roof looks like.” 

‘‘ I’m the lightest,” whispered Skipper. Give 
me a back up, and I’ll take a look ’round.” 

It’s quite a slant,” warned the Wise Guy; be 
careful of your footing.” 

Max gave Skipper a back, and Skipper, who was 
as agile as an eel, and famous for his skill in climb- 
ing trees, wriggled up through the opening in the 
roof, swung himself sidewise, got a firm hold of the 
snow-covered shingles with his knees, and then very 
cautiously crawled across the sloping roof to investi- 
gate. 

“ It’ll be some distance to the ground, even if 
there’s a pipe to shinny down, or the roof of the 
porch,” whispered Max. ‘‘A rope might help a 
whole lot. Let’s see. Why don’t we tie those 
blankets together? That might come in very 
handy.” 

‘‘Good idea,” agreed the Wise Guy; and going 
back into the room, they took the half-dozen blankets 
that Pollard had given them, and tied them together 
with as strong knots as they could make. 

When they went back to the trap-door Skipper 
166 


THE HOUSE NEAR THE BEAVER POND 


reappeared. “ It’s all right,” he muttered. “ We can 
get from this roof to the roof of the porch, and climb 
down the pillars to the ground. But do look out for 
the snow ; it keeps slipping, and if a lot of it fell it’d 
sound like an avalanche.” 

The Wise Guy placed a chair under the trap- 
door, and while Max held it, climbed on to the top 
of the back and from there pulled himself up to the 
roof. He knelt cautiously in the snow as Skipper 
had done. Then Max tossed the rope of blankets 
to the two outside, blew out the candle, stood on the 
chair, and wriggled through the opening. He was 
the tallest of the three, and the roof slanted so much 
here that it was not hard for him to do' this. Then 
they put the square piece of boarding back, and were 
ready for the next step in their escape. 

The snow made the slanting roof rather treacher- 
ous, and they had to be very careful not to dislodge 
enough of it to make a noise as it fell. To help pro- 
tect them from this Skipper carefully climbed to the 
brick chimney and tied one end of the rope of 
blankets about it. That would give them something 
to hold to as they slid down and would help to keep 
them from starting the snow. Grasping the rope he 
167 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


crawled down the roof and then let himself over its 
edge on to the flat roof of the front porch. With 
equal care Max and the Wise Guy followed his 
performance. 

All they had to do now was to climb down one 
of the posts of the porch. The porch roof projected 
a little, but it was a comparatively easy matter for 
them to wrap their legs about the post and shinny 
down hand over hand. Skipper did it, and reaching 
the ground, waded through the snow toward a clump 
of trees on the edge of the path that skirted the 
meadow and led toward Beaver Pond. The Wise 
Guy climbed down next, and after him Max. Just 
as Max jumped backward into a soft pile of snow 
some of that on the slanting roof dislodged, and 
slowly sliding, fell over the edge and came down 
kerplunk on to the roof of the porch. In the still 
night it sounded like a clap of thunder to the scouts. 

As Max got up from the snow a window on the 
second floor was thrown open, and a man called. 
What's all that racket? " and almost simultaneously 
the door on to the porch was opened and Bill came 
running out. Pollard, at the second-story window, 
and Bill on the porch, each had a good view of the 
168 



SLID DOWN THE ROOF, DID YOU?" DEMANDED BILL, PUTTING OUT HIS 
, HAND TO CATCH MAX BY THE SHOULDERS 




THE HOUSE NEAR THE BEAVER POND 


two boys, silhouetted as they were against the sea 
of snow. Stand still, or I’ll shoot ! ” called 
Pollard, though he showed no pistol. Bill dashed 
down from the porch, closely followed by another 
of the men. Both boys saw that it would be impos- 
sible for them to run in snow that was almost up 
to their knees, and though Max squared off as if 
he meant to fight, he knew they were outnumbered. 

‘‘ Slid down the roof, did you? ” demanded Bill, 
putting out his hand to catch Max by the collar. 

Max slipped away from his clutch. “ There’s no 
good in pawing us,” he said. You’re six against 
three.” 

Three ! ” exclaimed Bill. I see you two, but 
where’s the third one got to ? ” 

By now Pollard and Sam and one of the other 
men had come out-of-doors. They all looked about, 
but there was no sign of the third scout. “ He must 
be somewhere ’round here,” said Bill, very posi- 
tively. ‘‘ Bring out some of those skis, and we’ll see 
if we can’t locate him.” 

Three of the men put on skis and went in all 
directions about the house, while Max and the Wise 
Guy, now under the close watch of Bill, looked about 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


and wondered where Skipper could have vanished 
so quickly. They saw the marks he had made in 
the snow when he jumped from the porch and his 
first three or four steps after that, but from there 
his footprints were mixed with those that made the 
path up to the door of the house. 

The men hunted everywhere about the place, even 
going as far as the clump of trees on the edge of the 
path from the meadow to Beaver Pond. They looked 
behind bushes and trees, but they did not look up 
into the branches of a big maple that stood just 
beyond the path. From that point of vantage 
Skipper, who had climbed the tree like a squirrel, 
was watching them. 

At last they came back to the porch. “ Well,” 
said Pollard, I don’t see where he’s got to, but he’s 
vamoosed all right. And seeing that’s the case I’d 
suggest we be making our plans to leave these dig- 
gings just about as soon as convenient.” 

Without another round of the traps? ” said 

Sam. 

Pollard nodded his head. Let’s make sure of 
what we’ve got,” he said, and the men went into the 
house again. Max and the Wise Guy with them. 

170 


XII 

RAISING THE ALARM 

When Skipper was sure that the men were all 
in the house he let himself down from the tree by 
the path, and hiding back of it, took account of stock. 
The snow-shoes that the scouts had worn might pos- 
sibly still be lying on the porch, but there would be 
too much risk in his trying to find them. He must 
go either to Taplow’s or to the lodge, and Taplow's 
was nearer by at least a mile. But the shortest route 
to either of those points lay through the woods, and 
that route, piled with snow as it now was, and dark, 
would be almost impassable without snow-shoes or 
skis. The only other road was the long way by 
Beaver Pond, Greenapple Pike, Saulsbury Village, 
and down the lake to Taplow's. There would be 
light enough for him to see his way if he took this 
route, and the snow would not be quite so difficult to 
traverse, somewhat packed down as it was. Keeping 
well in the shadow of the trees he started off, head- 
ing for the Pike. 


171 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


It was difficult going through the heavy snow in 
boots, and often he sank into drifts up to his knees 
and had to stop and tug and pull to get his feet free. 
This took time, and every once in a while he had to 
rest and get his bearings. He passed the pond, now 
covered with snow, and finally struck the highroad. 
There the footing was better, as a number of teams 
had been driven over it since the storm, and he made 
much faster time. Following this curving route he 
ultimately reached the sleeping village. 

Saulsbury seemed settled for a good winter's 
nap, and there was no light up at the big house on 
Mr. Satterlee’s hill. Skipper did not stop, but headed 
for the lake. The wind had blown the snow there, 
so that there was a fairly open space near the middle. 
Every little while he scraped lumps of ice from the 
soles of his boots with a stout stick he had picked up. 
The night was cold, but his rapid exercise was keep- 
ing him warm. 

When he judged that he must be near Taplow's 
cabin he turned to the right and skirted the shore. 
Presently he found the little bay, and then the 
wooded point of land. Here was the path that he 
and the Wise Guy had helped Taplow to shovel that 

172 


RAISING THE ALARM 


very morning. A few steps took him to the door 
of the cabin, which was as quiet as the straggling 
houses of Saulsbury. 

He pounded on the door, waited, then pounded 
again. The door was opened, and Taplow’s voice 
demanded, ‘‘ Who^s there? What d^ye want? ” 

‘‘ It’s Skipper, from Snow-Shoe Lodge,” an- 
swered the boy. Let me in. IVe got something 
to tell you.” 

Taplow opened the door wide, and Skipper went 
in. “I’ve just got away from those men who’ve 
been stealing the furs,” he explained, and hurriedly 
told Taplow the story of how the Wise Guy and Max 
and he had been caught and how he had made his 
escape. “And I shouldn’t wonder if they’d pack 
up and light out as quick as they can now,” he 
concluded. “ They’d be pretty sure I’d tell what I 
knew about them.” 

“ They would most likely,” agreed Taplow. 
“ Let’s see what we’d better do now.” He consid- 
ered the matter, after having thrown a log on the fire 
to warm the cabin. “ You and I can’t go up there 
alone; and I don’t like to go up to Mr. Satterlee’s 
and rout him out at this hour of the night, and I 
173 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


don't like to go down to your camp and spoil the 
boys' beauty sleep." He looked at his watch. ‘‘ It 
won't be long to morning now ; and I don't see how 
we could do much till daylight nohow. Let's have 
forty winks of sleep first. I can wake up on the dot 
just when I want to, like one o' them alarm-clocks. 
You tumble into my bunk, and I'll make a bed on the 
floor." 

Now that he had made his report to Taplow it 
didn’t take Skipper more than about five seconds to 
get into the bunk and fall asleep. And the next thing 
he knew Taplow was shaking him by the shoulder 
and saying, “Hi there! Wake up! It's time we 
got busy ! " 

It looked as if it was still night, but the watch 
showed that it was after six o'clock, so Skipper 
tumbled out, ate the little breakfast that the hunter 
had ready, and listened to the man's plans. These 
plans were that he should go up to the Castle and 
notify Mr. Satterlee, so that the latter might take 
such steps as he thought best, and that Skipper should 
go to Snow-Shoe Lodge, tell the Scout-master what 
had happened, and if he thought it advisable, bring 
some of the troop back to Taplow's as soon as he 

174 


RAISING THE ALARM 


could. They would meet there for their expedition 
to the house near Beaver Pond. 

The sky was beginning to show signs of the com- 
ing morning when the two left the cabin. Taplow 
had provided Skipper with a pair of snow-^shoes, and 
these made travel down the lake much easier than 
it had been before. He went fairly fast, and before 
long had reached the cluster of cabins that marked 
the lodge. It was too early for any of the troop 
to be stirring, but to Skipper, wide-awake now, they 
seemed abominably lazy. He went to the door of the 
first cabin, which sheltered the Beavers, and rapped 
on the door. In a few minutes the door was opened 
by Dick, who looked very sleepy as he stood there 

in his pajamas. “ What in thunder ” he began, 

when he saw who it was at the door. I want to 
speak to Mr. Grafton,’’ said Skipper, pushing past 
him. He looked as important as if he were the 
bearer of messages to a general in wartime. 

By now Mr. Grafton had jumped out of his 
bunk. Skipper told him the story of the night’s 
adventure, and urged that part of the troop should 
go as soon as possible to Taplow’s. The Beavers, 
who had all gathered round and were listening, were 
175 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


all eager to go, but the Scout-master decided that it 
would only be fair that all the scouts should draw lots 
to see which half should go on the party and which 
should look after the camp. 

The lodge was soon in a bustle of preparation. 
Mr. Grafton conferred with Mr. Robins, who was 
to stay at the lodge. The scouts dressed, cooked 
breakfast, ate it, and all the time discussed the ex- 
citing adventure that Max and Skipper and the Wise 
Guy had been taking part in. Always trust the 
Wise Guy to get into anything fine that’s going on,” 
declared Philip. ‘‘ He’s the greatest little plotter 
that ever came down the pike.” 

Was it really the Wise Guy who got on to these 
trappers first ? ” Dick asked Skipper. 

‘‘ It surely was,” Skipper answered promptly, 
quite willing to give his friend all the credit for the 
remarkable adventure. 

‘‘ I thought he must have a secret,” said Duck 
reflectively. I noticed that he brushed his hair very 
carefully every morning, and he doesn’t usually do 
that unless he’s plotting something.” • 

As soon as breakfast was over the troop drew 
lots to see which should go after the trappers. 

176 


RAISING THE ALARM 


Philip and Duck and Sandy Simmons were among 
the lucky ones, and presently the little band of about 
a dozen scouts, all on snow-shoes and armed with 
their staffs, each with a small knapsack, holding sand- 
wiches, slung over their shoulders, started out for 
Taplow's. 

When they reached Taplow’s cabin they found 
that the hunter had already returned, and that Mr. 
Satterlee was with him. The latter had not waked 
his guests, but had left a message for the men of 
his house-party, explaining where he had gone and 
what he expected to do. ‘‘ When a relief party 
starts out to rescue some prisoners,’’ he said, with 
a laugh, it’s always well to have a second relief 
party ready to rescue the first one in case of need. 
But I don’t think we’ll need that, with such a fine 
band of scouts.” 

The small army, eleven boys and three men, took 
up the march through the woods. Taplow, who 
knew the trail like the alphabet, led the way, and 
the others followed him single-file. The scouts were 
all intensely interested; this was the most exciting 
expedition the troop had ever set out on; in the cold, 
stinging morning air each of them felt as if he 

12 177 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


were capable of doing wonderful deeds of prowess. 
As they wound in and put through the trees, the 
only noise being the soft flap-flap of the snow-shoes, 
they could picture themselves in colonial days, doing 
real scouting work along the frontier. 

When they came fairly near the meadow that led 
up to the house the troop spread out through the 
woods, the plan being that they should make a circle 
in the shelter of the trees and so reconnoiter the 
ground. It took some little time to push their way 
through snow-laden bushes, without breaking 
branches that would crack and give the alarm in the 
still air, but presently they took up the positions 
that Taplow had assigned them, each looking eagerly 
at the house. Skipper was with Taplow and Mr. 
Satterlee, close to the maple that had given him 
refuge. 

The house was as quiet as the woods had been 
in the early morning, no smoke came from the chim- 
ney, the front door was closed, the only sign that 
there had been people in it recently was the rope 
of blankets that stretched across the slanting roof 
and now and then flapped in the wind. That’s 
real enough,” Mr. Satterlee whispered to Skipper. 

178 


RAISING THE ALARM 


That proves you didn’t make up the yarn out of 
whole cloth.” 

Ten minutes’ watch of the place produced no 
other signs that the house was occupied, and then 
Taplow walked boldly forward, his manner that of 
a man who had happened upon the house by chance. 
He went up the steps and knocked at the front door. 
No one answered the knock. He tried the door, 
and found it locked. He called, ‘‘ Anybody at home 
there?” The only answer was the echo sent back 
by the trees encircling the meadow. 

After waiting long enough to make sure that 
there was either no one in the house or that if there 
was anyone there he didn’t intend to appear, Taplow 
beckoned to Mr. Satterlee and Skipper. They went 
up to the porch, anci the two men, putting their shoul- 
ders to the door, forced the lock and broke the door 
inwards. Even that noise, however, brought no 
one out to investigate. Thereupon the three went 
in, whfle the rest of the expedition came out from 
the shelter of the trees and crowded up on the porch. 
The house was empty, the furniture, such as it was, 
a few tables and chairs and some bedding, was still 
there, but there was no sign of the trappers, or of the 
179 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 

Wise Guy and Max, or of any skins. Evidently 
the law-breakers, as soon as they had failed to find 
Skipper, had decided that it would be best for them 
to clear out. 

‘‘Which way do you think they’ll go?” Philip 
asked Skipper, as the boys debated what they should 
do next. 

“Well,” answered Skipper, “ I should think 
they’d make for Greenapple Pike just as I did, and 
there they could hide the marks of their snow-shoes 
easily enough in the road. At a guess I’d say they’d 
be likely to go south, away from Saulsbury.” 

That was the opinion that the Scout-master and 
Mr. Satterlee and Taplow had come to, and the order 
was given to follow the path by Beaver Pond to the 
Pike. Now they could travel faster and without 
taking such care to make no noise, because the trap- 
pers in all probability had a good start on them and 
would be guarding against any surprise. 

When they reached the Pike there were many 
marks made by teams passing in each direction, and 
there were also the prints of snow-shoes going both 
north and south. Some of those going north had 
been made by Skipper that night, but it was impos- 
180 


RAISING THE ALARM 


sible to tell whether there were not other snow-shoe 
trails mixed with his. 

While they were all studying the tracks Duck 
gave a yell, and pointed to a patch of snow beside 
the road. There you are,’' he cried, '' good old 
Buffalo sign! Max and the Wise Guy kept their 
eyes open all right, all right ! The arrow’s pointing 
south. That’s the way they’re gone, fellows I ” 

On the snow was the patrol sign, the very rough 
sketch of a Buffalo head, with the numbers 3 and 5, 
which were the numbers belonging to Max and the 
Wise Guy in the patrol, and an arrow pointing south. 
That was a great help to the rescuing party, and they 
started south on the Pike at once, keeping a sharp 
lookout for any other messages. 

In spite of the fact that this highroad had been 
considerably travelled it was not the easiest walking 
in the world, and after about three hours of steady 
plugging away they were all ready to rest and have 
lunch. They had found one more Buffalo sign, with 
another arrow pointing south, and they thought they 
could distinguish the snow-shoe tracks of the party 
they wanted. They had stopped at one farm-house, 
only a short distance from the road, and asked a 
girl if anyone there had seen some men and boys 
181 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


going by on the Pike that morning, but the girl 
had said they hadn’t noticed any such people. 

A stone wall, from which the snow had slipped 
or been pretty thoroughly blown by the wind, offered 
them a fairly dry resting-place, and here they all 
perched in a row, while they munched the sand- 
wiches they had brought in their knapsacks. They 
all had a great deal to ask Skipper about his escape 
from the trappers, and though they pretended to 
jolly him about certain parts of it, it was plain to 
see they were all rather proud of what he had done. 

“ Up and after ’em, my lads,” said Sandy 
Simmons, when lunch was finished. With his staff 
he drew the rough outline of a long-legged heron 
in the snow, under it a number one, to mark his 
position as patrol leader, and then an arrow pointing 
south. It’s about time we found some other mes- 
sage from the Wise Guy,” he suggested. ‘‘ He 
wouldn’t lose a chance to drop us a hint.” 

“ What I don’t see,” said Mr. Satterlee, ‘‘ is why 
they ever took those two scouts along with them. 
When they decided to clear out with their booty I 
should have thought they’d have let the boys go. 
Those two couldn’t do any more to catch them than 
Skipper was likely to do.’" 

182 


RAISING THE ALARM 


Philip laughed. Perhaps they’d heard the Wise 
Guy was a dangerous fellow to let loose/’ he sug- 
gested. 

Pve been puzzling over that same question,” 
Mr. Grafton said, “ and the only reason I can find 
why they took the two scouts is that they had some- 
thing else they planned to do before they left the 
woods, and that the boys overheard their plan and 
might give it away. So they thought it best to keep 
them prisoners until they’d got away with the trick.” 
‘‘ That sounds likely,” agreed Mr. Satterlee. 

Now what did they mean to do? ” 

Skipper, who was in the lead, stopped and pointed 
to a criss-cross mark in the snow close to the road. 

That looks like a scout sign,” said he. Does 
anybody see anything else around here? ” 

A minute later Duck pounced upon a small 
crumpled piece of paper. '' Here’s something ! ” he 
cried. He opened the paper and read, ‘ Some are 
going to traps along lake. Noon.’ ” At one corner 
were what looked like the initials W. G. 

Pretty clever of him to tip us off right under 
their noses,” said Philip. He looked at his watch. 
‘‘ It’s two o’clock now. They’ve still got two hours 
start on us.” 


183 


XIII 

THE LEADER OF THE BEAVER PATROL 

The Scout-master was studying the crumpled 
piece of paper with the message supposedly sent by 
the Wise Guy. ‘‘ Some are going to traps along 
lake/" he repeated. ‘‘ They didn"t want to overlook 
any skins they might have taken the last day or two, 
and perhaps they might have some other secret store- 
house they wanted to visit. It seems to me we ought 
to try to outwit them if we can. I think I’ll send 
a messenger back to camp, with instructions for the 
scouts there to do a little investigating on their own 
hook along the lake, and see if they can find any 
of these friends of ours.” He tore a page from his 
note-book, and wrote a few lines on it. Then he 
looked about at the boys. How’d you like to take 
this message to Mr. Robins, Duck? You’re pretty 
fast on snow-shoes.” 

All right, sir,” Duck answered promptly, and 
tucking the note in an inside pocket he set out back 
over the road. He was a good woodsman, with 
184 


THE LEADER OF THE BEAVER PATROL 


a very fine bump of locality, and he didn’t intend to 
retrace all his steps. Presently he swung off to the 
right, figuring out that the lake must lie just about 
north-east of him. He could cover a good deal of 
ground in a short time, and before long he was 
making his way through the woods, using his com- 
pass now and again, and for the most part deviating 
very little from the direction a bird would have taken 
in flying to the lake. Once he had to skirt a small 
marshy place, and a tangle of underbrush turned him 
out of the direct line once, but in a short time after 
leaving the troop he was catching a glimpse of the 
snow-covered lake, and then was speeding north 
over it. When he neared the lodge he saw that the 
scouts there had cleared the snow from a good-sized 
space in front of their camp and were playing hockey. 
Mr. Hackett, Mr. Satterlee’s guest who had cap- 
tained the Chamois Hunters ” in the tobogganing, 
was playing with them, and seemed as much at home 
on skates as he had been on a toboggan. 

Duck ran up to Mr. Robins and handed him the 
note from the Scout-master. Mr. Robins; read it, 
and then with a whistle and a wave of his hand 
called the boys to him. He explained the situation. 

185 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


Anybody here seen anything of traps or places 
where trappers would be likely to keep skins ? he 
asked. Tjiereupon Dick told of the time he and 
Skipper had found the hut in the woods on the 
afternoon they had first tried skate-sailing, and of 
their meeting the gruff -voiced man as they went back 
to the lake. Fm pretty sure he was one of this 
crowd, said Dick. ‘‘ He fits in with the descriptions 
of the others, and I felt sure he wasn’t any too well 
pleased at finding us in that place. I can show you 
where the cabin was, all right.” 

‘‘Lead on, oh guide,” exclaimed Mr. Hackett. 
“ But first let me cut myself a stout oaken club, so 
that I may roundly paste these knaves should we 
encounter them.” 

“ I don’t see why we shouldn’t all go on this 
hunt,” said Mr. Robins. “ If we left one or two they 
might be kidnapped, and I don’t believe these fel- 
lows’ll stop now to take any more provisions.” So 
it was decided that all the scouts should put on snow- 
shoes and follow the leader of the Beaver Patrol. 

Mr. Hackett cut himself a good-sized club, and 
tramped along, in the best of spirits, singing, or 
“ exercising his voice,” as he called it, until Mr. 

186 


THE LEADER OF THE BEAVER PATROL 

Robins suggested that' he might give away their 
whereabouts to the men they were looking for. The 
sun was just about setting as they came tO' the place 
where Dick and Skipper had left their skate-sails, 
but there was plenty of light to show them the way 
through the woods. 

From here Dick led them along the trail, the 
second in line being Mr. Hackett, who refrained 
from singing now, but. who kept twirling his heavy 
stick as if he were a drum-major, and glowered into 
the depths of the woods as if he expected to see wild 
animals or savages at any moment. When they 
reached the first clearing Dick stopped and looked 
about, then stepped over the snow to the place where 
Skipper and he had found the fox trap before. He 
was very sure that was the place, but the trap was 
no longer there; there were, however, marks in the 
snow that looked as if some one had been there. 

They’re collecting their traps as well as their pelts,” 
he said, as he turned back to the trail. 

‘‘ That’s a good riddance,” said Mr. Hackett. 
‘‘We don’t want any of them lying around loose in 
the woods.” ‘ 

Next they came to the barbed wire fence, and, 
187 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


crossing that, soon sighted the cabin. Now they 
went on very cautiously, and when they were almost 
up to it stopped and let Dick reconnoiter. The pad- 
lock was on the door, and it was locked. He looked 
all about the cabin and the clearing, but the place 
was as deserted as on the day when Skipper and 
he had discovered it. 

The rest of the party came up and investigated, 
with no better results. They seemed to have come 
to a standstill, for there was no path leading away 
from the cabin and the woods were thick on every 
side. The men might still be in them, or they might 
have rejoined the others by now. Then of a sudden 
Dick held up a warning hand and they all stopped 
moving about and listened. Off in the woods there 
was the sound of a breaking branch, then very 
shortly afterwards another similar sound. Dick 
motioned them all to hide, and in a minute there was 
no one to be seen. Well shielded in the woods the 
scouts looked out on the cabin and the clearing 
round it. 

Their watchfulness was rewarded, for after a 
little wait two men, traps in their hands, appeared, 
and headed toward the cabin door. One man un- 
188 


THE LEADER OF THE BEAVER PATROL 


locked the padlock, and opened the door. Both went 
in, leaving the door standing open. Dick crept out 
cautiously from his hiding-place and stole over to the 
door ; after him came Mr. Hackett, and after him all 
the rest. They stood in front of the doorway, look- 
ing in, peering over each other’s shoulders at the 
two men. 

“ Hands up! ” cried Dick, from his position as 
commander. 

The men, who were stooping over some pelts and 
traps, tying them together, looked up in the greatest 
surprise, and then obeyed the order. Dick, staff in 
hand, entered the cabin, and back of him came Mr. 
Hackett and the others. 

“ Say, what do you call this ? ” asked one of the 
captives. Breakin’ into our private diggin’s this 
way.” 

‘‘ Traps and skins,” answered Dick, found on 
Mr. Satterlee’s land. I guess we’ve a right to turn 
you over to him.” 

Or turn them over to me,” put in Mr. Hackett. 
‘‘ Pm his lawyer in New York, and there’s nothing 
I like so much as rounding up crooks, specially those 
that trap animals that can’t defend themselves.” He 
189 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 

glowered, he shook his head at the two poachers, he 
really looked as if he were an ogre ready to lunch 
off them. “ Give your commands, captain of the 
Beavers,’' he added. They’ve been catching 
beavers in some of their traps, and it’s only fair 
that you should have your turn now. What shall 
we do? Search and bind them? ” 

“ Yes,” said Dick, grinning. 

Thereupon Mr. Hackett and the three scouts 
nearest to him stepped over to the men, hunted 
through their pockets for pistols or knives, and 
then tied their hands back of them with some of the 
rope they had been using to string the traps together. 
‘‘Now, right about march!” commanded Dick. 
“ Mr. Hackett, will you lead the way ? The rest of 
us will bring these skins and traps along as evi- 
dence.” 

Back to the lodge they went, Mr. Hackett 
acting more like a drum-major than ever, and sing- 
ing now regardless of who might hear him. At the 
lodge the prisoners were given the freedom of the 
storehouse, Mr. Robins being careful to see that the 
door was securely fastened, and that the windows 
were too small for them to squeeze through. 

190 


THE LEADER OF THE BEAVER PATROL 


It was now well after seven o’clock, and there 
was no' word from the other expedition. “ It looks 
as if they might be out all night,” said Mr. Robins. 

I’m afraid we can only offer you a cold supper, 
Hackett; all this business has rather thrown our 
cooking department out of gear.” 

I’d like to take pot-luck with you anyway,” 
answered Mr. Hackett. “ It seems a long way up 
the lake to the Castle just now to a hungry man.” 

He stayed to supper, which consisted chiefly of 
sardines, cold ham and tongue, buttered toast, and 
spiced peaches. Then they all sat around the council- 
fire. ‘‘ This is the real thing,” said the guest. 
‘‘ When you’re off in the woods you want to do 
exactly as you please. Wait on yourself. That’s 
the main trouble up at the Castle. There are serv- 
ants there, and I’m not supposed to go out and cut 
down a tree and bring it in for the fire if I feel like 
it. And you can’t put your feet on the mantelpiece, 
for fear one of the servants might see you do it.” 

The boys asked him to tell them about winter- 
sports in Switzerland and Norway. Mr. Hackett 
sat down on the floor in front of the fire, his legs 
crossed in front of him, and his hands clasping his 
191 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


knees. “Did you ever hear of a ski-lobner? ’’ he 
asked. “ I don’t believe you ever did. Well, there’s 
a big school for boys at a place called Majorstuen, 
which is a couple of miles outside Christiania, in 
Norway. One of the boys in this school was a very 
quiet fellow, who used to like to explore the country 
by himself, instead of in a crowd, and often in 
winter he’d put on his skis and spend his half- 
holidays in the woods, sometimes taking long jumps 
when he came to open places, because he was very 
fond of ski-jumping. 

“ On one of his winter rambles the boy found 
two young peasants ski-jumping, just as he liked 
to do. But they did it in a very different way from 
his way. . He usually carried a long wooden pole, 
fifteen feet in length, when he went on his tramps, 
and this was very much in the way when he climbed 
the steep hills. He had to have the pole, however, 
to keep his balance when he skied downhill, and to 
steer with. But the peasant boys went tearing down 
the hill with only a couple of short sticks in their 
hands. He stood watching them, very much sur- 
prised, and then he noticed another peculiar thing 
about their skiing. When he got ready for a jump 
192 


THE LEADER OF THE BEAVER PATROL 


he always made a big snowbank at the foot of the 
hill, so that when he came down the slope he would 
jump from the bank into the air, and then land some 
distance off on the level ground. But these two 
peasant boys had built their bank of snow about 
halfway down the hill, so that they had a good run, 
then jumped into the air, and landed again on the 
slope, skiing down for some distance further. This 
made the game much more exciting, because it took 
a good deal more skill to land on the slope and reach 
the bottom of the hill standing up on the skis. But 
he soon saw that it was really the safer way to jump, 
because if the jumper fell he'd come down much 
more easily on the soft snow-covered slope than if 
he landed in a pile on the level. Do you get that ? " 
Mr. Hackett added, glancing at the semicircle of 
boys. 

The boys nodded. Td like to try that up on the 
hill,'' said Sam Potter. 

I’ll show you how it works," said Mr. Hackett. 
‘‘Well, this Norse boy was so much thrilled with 
this new way of jumping that he ran home as fast 
as he could go and got his brother to hurry back 
with him to watch the strangers. The brother was 

13 193 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 

clever on skis, too, and he was very much taken by 
this new scheme. The two schoolboys went over to 
the peasants and qdickly made friends with them, 
and learned that the stfs^ngers had come to Chris- 
tiania to take part in the sports at the big annual 
fair that is held there every February. Then the 
peasants showed the other two some of the tricks of 
their new way of ski-lobning, as they call it. 

The peasants won the prizes for ski-jumping 
at the Christiania Fair, just as the peasants almost 
always did, because running and jumping on skis 
was part of their every-day work, and they wouldn’t 
have been able to get very far from their own front 
doors in winter-time if they hadn’t been good at it, 
while the townpeople only used skis for sport. But 
the schoolboy I’ve been telling you about kept up his 
practice at running and jumping, studying the way 
the peasant boys did it, until one year he carried off 
the prize at the great Fair, to the surprise and delight 
of all the city people. You see he’d kept his eyes 
open and studied out a better way, and after that all 
the other schoolboys copied him. When he grew up 
he became famous as Dr. Nansen, the great Arctic 
explorer.” Mr. Hackett stretched his long arms over 
194 


THE LEADER OF THE BEAVER PATROL 


his head. “ You really don’t know what people can 
do on skis until you see those Norse folks.” 

‘‘We all thought you were pretty good at it the 
other day,” said Mr. Robins. 

Mr. Hackett laughed. “ In Norway they’d think 
me the clumsy clown at the circus who goes around 
stumbling over everything.” 

Some one was knocking on the cabin door. 
“ Hello there ! Can we come in ? ” called a voice. 

“ Perhaps that’s the troop with more prisoners,” 
said Mr. Hackett, scrambling to his feet. 

“No; they wouldn’t knock,” said Mr. Robins. 
“ They’d march in as if they owned the place.” He 
went to the door, and opening it found that the new 
arrivals were the rest of Mr. Satterlee’s house-party. 

“We wanted to find out what was going on,” 
explained Miss Parrish, who looked very pretty in 
a big fur coat.. “ First our host disappears on some 
mysterious business, and then Ned Hackett runs 
away and doesn’t show up all day. So we got out 
a couple of sleighs and drove down over the lake to 
find out the news. You do look snug in here. What 
a bully fire ! 

Mr. Robins bowed her in to the room as if he 

195 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


were Sir Walter Raleigh spreading his cloak for 
Queen Elizabeth to walk on. ‘‘We haven’t the faint- 
est idea where the rest of the troop are,” he said. 
“ We’ve got two prisoners, trappers we caught this 
afternoon, now safely lodged in the storehouse. 
The others of the gang kidnapped the Wise Guy and 
Max, and the troop’s hot on their trail.” 

“ And there’s no telling when they’ll be back ? ” 
asked Miss Parrish. “ I didn’t think we were going 
to run into such a lot of excitement when we left 
the city to come up into the North Woods.” 

They all sat in front of the fire, but only for a 
short time, for it was too cold a night to let the 
horses, well blanketed though they were, stand out- 
doors. Mr. Hackett said that as soon as he got back 
to the Castle he’d telephone to the nearest police 
headquarters and have some officers sent over to take 
the two prisoners away. 

“ There might be a message at the Castle from 
Mr. Grafton by this time,” suggested Mr. Robins. 
“ He might have got hold of a telephone somewhere 
and sent you word. I tell you what we’ll do. Dick’ll 
go part way up the lake with you, near enough the 
Castle so he can see a light on the terrace, and then 
196 


THE LEADER OF THE BEAVER PATROL 


you send any message down by Morse code with a 
lantern. Dick can signal if along to us in the same 
way. Do you know it? ’’ 

Mr. Hackett nodded. “ That^s a good scheme. 
Get your lantern, Dick, and we’ll find room for you 
in one of the sleighs.” 

Mr. Satterlee’s guests were soon riding up the 
lake, the sleigh bells ringing merrily as the cutters 
dashed along at a good speed. When they came 
to a point where they could see the lights of the 
Castle high up on its hill Mr. Hackett told his driver 
to stop, and Dick got out. He swung his lantern in 
a big semicircle, and caught an answering wave 
down the lake from in front of the camp. All 
right,” he said, ‘‘ I can see both places from here. 
Good-night.” 

Good-night, oh captain of the Beavers,” re- 
turned Mr. Hackett. ‘‘ Don’t forget to give your 
prisoners some breakfast in the morning.” 

The sleighs went on north, and Dick ran short 
dashes up and down over the snow, spun round like 
a whirling dervish, and jumped up and down like 
a Jack-in-the-box to keep warm. 

After some time he caught the flash of a lantern 
197 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


way up on the terrace of the Castle. The lantern 
swung in a half-circle, and he answered in the same 
way to show that he was ready to take the message. 
Then, spelling the letters aloud as Mr. Hackett 
flashed them down from the terrace, using the lantern 
in swings tO' right or left to indicate dots and dashes 
as they used the signal-flag in daylight, he made out 
the message: “ Thone says all right, heading south, 
hot on trail.’^ Then came the signal for the end 
of the message, three waves in front. Dick acknowl- 
edged this with the two waves of the lantern to the 
left and then the position in front that indicated that 
he understood. There was a good-night wave of the 
lantern on the hill, and then it disappeared, presum- 
ably in the house. 

Turning about Dick caught the attention of the 
scout with the lantern who was stationed down by 
the lodge, and then relayed to him the same message 
he had just taken from the Castle. It was sent and 
caught without mistake, and soon Dick was starting 
back to camp. The air was getting colder, and 
nipped his nose and cheeks, but it was a glorious 
night and the stars looked much nearer and brighter 
than he ever remembered them to have looked before. 


198 


THE LEADER OF THE BEAVER PATROL 

Mr. Robins was waiting for him when he reached 
the lodge. We got the message all right, Dick,’" 
said he. I guess we might as well turn in for the 
night. I hope the others have got some kind of 
shelter ; it isn’t exactly the kind of night you’d choose 
to sleep out of doors, imless you’d got lots of 
blankets.” He nodded toward the storehouse. “ I 
just peeped in on our prisoners, and they’re both 
snoring to beat the band. You’d better cut along 
in to the Beaver wigwam. It’s pretty cold out 
to-night.” 

Dick went to his cabin, where he found the four 
boys of his patrol who weren’t on the hunt with 
the Scout-master, comfortably lying in their bunks 
and carrying on a spirited conversation. He threw 
a fresh log on the fire and warmed his hands before 
it. I’d just as soon be here as chasing round the 
country after the rest of that gang,” he declared. 

It wouldn’t be any fun to snuggle up to a haystack 
a night like this.” 

‘‘ I was saying,” said Fred Sands, who had 
propped his head on his elbow, ‘‘ that I’ll bet the 
Wise Guy makes more trouble for those men than 
they make for him. If they don’t look out he’ll 
199 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


have ’em tied up while they sleep. You can take it 
from me, he’s sure to get the better of ’em somehow.” 

‘‘Well, how about Max; he’s no simpleton 
either,” put in Jack Royal. “ And he’s a good deal 
better scrapper than the Wise Guy ever thought of 
being.” 

“ Oh, Max is all right. But the Wise Guy’s 
a sort of genius for making trouble. He could take 
a room full of Sunday-school teachers and show 
’em all up as awful thieves. I shouldn’t wonder if 
he got to be President some day,” Fred added 
thoughtfully. “ ’Specially if somebody told him he 
couldn’t be.” 

“ You’re just jealous of him,” said Dick, begin- 
ning to undress. 

“ You ought to be glad you’re here instead of 
knocking around goodness knows where, with a lot 
of crooks who’ve got it in for you,” said another of 
the Beavers. 

“ So I am,” agreed Fred. “ Fm not complain- 
ing; only it’s a fact that the Wise Guy gets into more 
adventures than anyone else in the troop.” 

“ You mean he’s always hunting trouble,” sug- 
200 


THE LEADER OF THE BEAVER PATROL 


gested Dick, as he stood his shoes in front of the 
fire to warm. 

I mean ” began Fred. Oh, you know what 

I mean. If we were wrecked on a desert island he’d 
find the treasure hid there while the rest of us were 
hunting bread and water. That’s the kind of a 
George Washington Sherlock Holmes scout he is ! ” 
“ But he can’t hit a balloon,” said Jack. ‘‘ He 
always gets three strikes.” ' 

Fred nodded. I don’t suppose he ever wanted 
to hit the ball,” said he. ‘‘If he did he’d think up 
some way to do it.” 

“ Well, I want to go to sleep,” said Dick, tum- 
bling into his bunk. “ Keep the rest of that speech, 
Fred, for to-morrow.” 


XIV 


SCOUTS IN BONDAGE 

Meantime a great deal had been happening to 
Max and the Wise Guy. As soon as Skipper had 
disappeared, the trappers had decided that it was time 
for them to follow his example. But then a dispute 
arose. Some of the men were for making for the 
nearest railroad station, while others wanted to col- 
lect skins they had left in several cabins at different 
points in the woods, and also traps. Sam urged this 
latter plan strongly, and they finally agreed to start 
south and settle the question of picking up the other 
pelts and traps when they should come nearer to 
their location. Sam, turning toward the scouts, saw 
that they had overheard at least part of this plan. 

WeVe got to take these boys with us now,” he 
insisted, “or they might tip off the whole crowd 
about our hidin’ -place and have ’em waitin’ for us.” 

“That’s right,” agreed Pollard. “We’d better 
take ’em along.” 


202 


SCOUTS IN BONDAGE 


With the two scouts safely under their eyes the 
men made bundles of the pelts they had in the house 
and strapped them to their backs. Pollard also 
packed a good part of the provisions into two bags 
and gave one to each of the boys. In half , an hour 
they were ready to set out ; they locked the doors, put 
on snow-shoes, and took the road to Beaver Pond 
by the faint light of the stars. Neither the men nor 
the boys had had any sleep to speak of, and none 
were in a very amiable frame of mind. 

Almost noiselessly the snow-shoes thudded over 
the road to the Pike, and there turned southward. 
The scouts were in the middle of the party, where 
they could be watched by their captors, but as the 
men stopped on the Pike a moment to look up and 
down it the Wise Guy found a chance to make a 
very rough sketch of a Buffalo head, with the figures 
three and five, and an arrow pointing south. When 
Pollard, who had assumed the job of looking after 
the boys, chanced to glance at him, the Wise Guy 
was leaning nonchalantly on his scout’s staff and 
yawning as if his head was about to break in two. 
There was no reason why the trappers should appre- 
ciate the fact that in such a case as this it was the 

203 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


first duty of scouts to leave signs to mark their track. 

There wasn’t much of the excitement of a troop 
hike as the band took up the line of march to the 
south. The men were cross, and when they spoke 
to each other snarled out their words like angry ani- 
mals. The farther they went the more sleepy they 
grew, after a time they actually shut their eyes as they 
plodded along, opening them with a start when their 
snow-shoes would catch on a lump of ice or they 
would stumble over some rise in the road. In the 
meantime dawn slowly spread over the eastern sky 
and the clear cold winter morning arrived. 

Soon after it was light Pollard stopped, as they 
came opposite a big bam standing near the road. 
“ Forty winks of sleep,” he said. ‘‘ We’ve put a 
good distance between us and anybody else now.” 
The other men nodded, and they all turned into the 
road that led up to the bam. Only a wooden staple 
held the door; in five minutes they had all found 
comfortable beds in the hay. Don’t you fellows 
try to sneak away from us this time,” said Pollard, 
’cause we wouldn’t handle you so gently another 
time. Sam and I are going to take turns sitting here 
by the door, and the first one we catch making any 


SCOUTS IN BONDAGE 


tracks to get away we tie him up, arms and legs tight, 
and let him stay here till the cows come home.” He 
made himself a nest in the hay by the bam-door, but 
whether he kept his eyes open or not the boys didn’t 
know, because nothing could have kept them awake 
by this time; in five seconds they were both sleeping 
as if they hadn’t shut their eyes for a month before. 

It was the owner of the bam who waked them, 
coming in noisily when it seemed as if they couldn’t 
have been asleep for more than two minutes. 

What’s all this ? ” he demanded. ‘‘Did you folks 
take this for a boarding-house? ” he added jokingly. 

Pollard explained that they were on their way 
to town and had stopped for a short rest in the barn. 
The farmer looked at the bundles of pelts, and 
doubtless wondered why they had been travelling 
so early in the morning; but he probably concluded 
that their real business was none of his affair, for 
he smiled and told them to stay in the hay as long as 
they had a mind to. 

“Time for us to be off again,” announced 
Pollard, however; and prodded the two boys with 

the toe of his boot. “ A couple of miles more, and 
205 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


we’ll have a bite of breakfast. Fresh air’s good for 
the appetite.” 

So they all turned out from their beds in the 
hay and took to the Pike, travelling at a faster clip 
than before, to make up for lost time. 

It was now full daylight. Max and the Wise 
Guy trudged along in better shape, each trying to 
find a chance to make some guiding sign in the snow, 
but neither finding a chance, as one of the men was 
walking back of them. 

After a time they stopped and breakfasted on 
the bread and cold meat in one of the packages. 
They had all gotten over their sleepiness now, and 
the nipping air freshened them up. The men began 
to talk to each other, and the Wise Guy and Max 
dared to exchange a few words when the others 
were busy with their own conversations. Guess 
they’re on the trail now,” murmured the Wise Guy. 
‘‘ Good old Skipper,” muttered Max. “ He’s a slick 
one, all right.” 

“ Guess Mr. Grafton’ll know what to do,” whis- 
pered the Wise Guy. Every little while one or the 
other would find a chance to look back over his shoul- 


206 


SCOUTS IN BONDAGE 


der, half expecting to see the troop catching up in 
the distance. 

There was no sign of any pursuit, however, as 
they tramped on at a fast pace until noon. Then they 
stopped near a farmhouse, got some drinking-water 
from the farmer's wife, and ate the balance of their 
provisions as they rested on a fence that ran along 
the road. 

The two scouts sat on one fence-rail by them- 
selves, while the men stood talking a little distance 
away from them. Something's up," muttered 
Max, nodding toward their captors. The men were 
arguing again, Sam insisting as before that it was 
ridiculous to be driven away by a crowd of boys 
without another look at the traps they had set along 
the southern end of the lake, and particularly a trip 
through the woods to their storehouse at that end. 
Bill opposed him, saying they were in a ticklish 
enough fix now ; but after some wrangling the other 
man's ideas won out, and two of them plunged into 
the woods, promising to meet the others at a place 
they called Cranford's that night. 

Come along now," said Pollard to the two 
scouts, as he struck into the Pike again. But in the 
207 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


meantime the Wise Guy had found a small pencil in 
his pocket, had managed to tear a leaf from his 
note-book, and had contrived under shelter of his 
opened jacket, as he bent forward on the fence, 
to scrawl, Some have gone to traps along lake. 
Noon. W. G.’’ 

He jumped down from the fence-rail and fell 
into line back of the men, but a minute later he made 
a cross in the snow with his staff and dropped the 
piece of note-paper, crumpled up into a ball. 

Tramping on snow-shoes is tiring work, unless 
one has done a great deal of it, and as the after- 
noon wore on the scouts began to learn they had 
new muscles in their legs and ankles. Their thighs 
ached, their feet felt as if they were dragging weights 
of lead. They had had very little sleep in the last 
twenty- four hours. The men were showing their 
feelings, too; their talk to each other grew more 
and more surly ; whenever they looked at the scouts 
or spoke to them they showed they felt that the boys 
had brought all this trouble on them. It wasnT by 
any means a pleasure march now. When one of the 
boys looked at the other he grinned to encourage 
him, but their heads as well as their legs were be- 
208 


SCOUTS IN BONDAGE 


ginning to ache, and the grins weren’t very natural. 

The sun set, the moon rose and silvered the road 
ahead and the fields to either side. It was a beautiful 
winter night, but neither of the scouts was in the 
mood to enjoy it. They were now chiefly concerned 
with keeping their eyes open and moving one foot 
after the other. At last they came to Cranford’s, 
which appeared to be another small straggling vil- 
lage, very much like Saulsbury. When they came 
to the first house the men stopped and discussed their 
plans. The Wise Guy and Max forced themselves 
to listen to what was being said. It seemed that only 
a mile the other side of Cranford’s was Middle- 
brook, that Middlebrook had a railroad station, and 
that a train was due to leave there about eight in the 
morning. The men decided it would be safer for 
them to spend the night at Cranford’s rather than 
at Middlebrook, as some one might have telephoned 
to Middlebrook about them. They could go to the 
latter place early the next morning, keep out of sight 
until eight o’clock, and then take the train when 
it pulled in. 

They did a little prospecting, and located a house 
with a barn to one side. Pollard interviewed the 
209 


14 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


man at the house and brought back word that he 
had no objection to their spending the night in his 
bam. So they took possession, while Sam went 
down to the village store and bought enough pro- 
visions for their supper. The barn was warm, and 
the hay like the softest cushions to tired bodies and 
sore stiff muscles. Max and the Wise Guy had to 
pinch themselves to keep from falling asleep before 
Sam returned with supper. 

They found they could eat, however, and then, 
while the men stood at the door smoking, the two 
boys whispered in a corner. There seemed very little 
they could do, but both felt they must do something. 
So the Wise Guy tore half-a-dozen sheets from his 
note-book and wrote on each of them, They’re 
going to take the eight o’clock train from Middle- 
brook. W. G.” He cmmpled these notes up and 
stuck them in his pocket. The troop’ll come along 
the main road,” he whispered, ‘‘but I don’t know 
how to get these messages out there. And even if 
I did, they wouldn’t be likely to see such small pieces 
of paper.” 

The barn-door faced the road and the only win- 
dows were high up on the other side. Max shook 
210 


SCOUTS IN BONDAGE 


his head. Looks as if we’d have to leave the 
capturing to the troop, if there’s going to be any- 
capturing,” he added doubtfully. ‘‘ Do your legs 
feel as if they were tied full of knots? ” 

‘‘ They feel as if they’d been pulled out about a 
mile.” The Wise Guy yawned. I didn’t know a 
fellow could get so sleepy. But we ought to try to 
signal the troop if there’s a chance of it.” 

‘‘ We can’t give the Buffalo yell; and they’re not 
going to let us sneak out of here to-night,” said Max, 
very positively. 

‘'No, we’ve just got to trust to chance,” agreed 
the Wise Guy. “ But it won’t do to be asleep if the 
chance does come along.” 

“ Well, I don’t see how we’re going to keep 
awake,” said Max. “I don’t believe I could if some- 
body offered me a million dollars.” 

Pollard came over to them. “ Here you,” said 
he, “ don’t you be puttin’ your heads together plot- 
tin’ against us. I’m going over to the house to get 
a bucket of water, and one of you can come along 
to carry it. That’ll keep you out of mischief.” 

The Wise Guy stood up, rubbing his fists in his 
eyes to try to keep them open. “ I’ll come,” he said. 

211 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


I^m pretty nearly as thirsty as I am sleepy.’’ 

Pollard and the Wise Guy went out and crossed 
over to the house. A knock at the door brought a 
woman to see what was wanted. Pollard asked for 
a pail of water, and they both stepped inside while 
the woman went to get it. When she came back 
the man of the house came in, too, and Pollard 
stopped for a few words with him. The woman 
turned to the boy. You look mighty tired,” she 
said. 

“ I’m awfully lame,” answered the Wise Guy. 

Snow-shoes take it out of your ankles.” 

‘‘ You ought to have a stick to help you,” said 
the woman. Here, take this.” She handed him a 
good stout stick that stood by the door. 

Pollard and the man went to the front door, 
which was only a few yards from the road. “ Take 
the pail over to the bam,” ordered Pollard. 

The Wise Guy, leaning on the stick, started off 
with the pail. He knew he couldn’t make a dash 
for liberty, for Pollard would see any such attempt 
on his part. But he went toward a big tree that 
stood near the road, and when he reached it he set 
down the bucket as if to rest his legs for a minute. 

212 


SCOUTS IN BONDAGE 


Very calmly he took his handkerchief out of his 
pocket, tied it roimd the end of the stick, and stuck 
the stick firmly in the ground. It was only a few 
feet from the road. Then he marked a cross with 
the toe of his shoe, and threw the crumpled balls 
of note-paper all around him. No one would have 
thought he was doing more than resting for a minute. 
Then he picked up the pail again and went on to the 
barn. 

Pollard followed him to the bam a few minutes 
later. His chat with the man at the house and a short 
rest seemed to have made him feel more amiable, 
for he said to the Wise Guy, “ Go ahead, sonny, 
help yourself to a drink. I guess you ain’t so awful 
fond of our company, but you won’t have to stick 
around us after to-morrow. Then you can scoot 
back to your lake as fast as ever you like. But don’t 
you kill any animals up there, for we want to come 
back next year for another haul.” 

The Wise Guy took a good drink from the pail 
of water. Now get along to bed,” said Pollard. 
“ I don’t suppose you’ll need any soothin’ syrup to 
make you sleep to-night. But if you should get 
wakeful I might as well tell you that when Sam was 
213 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


down to the store he bought a padlock and a key, 
and Fm goin^ to lock the door on the inside to-night 
and hang the key to a chain round my neck, so there 
won’t be any way of takin’ French leave without 
disturbin’ me.” 

The Wise Guy climbed up the hay-mow to where 
Max had made a comfortable nest. Max seemed to 
be asleep, but he opened one eye like a very drowsy 
owl as the other boy approached. The Wise Guy 
glanced at the men ; they were all down by the door, 
quite beyond reach of any whispers. Well, I scat- 
tered those notes,” he murmured, and I stuck a 
flag close to the road, where they can’t help seeing it 
if the moon stays out and if they keep on the look- 
out as they ought to.” 

Fine for you ! ” Max whispered. If the troop 
does find that, there ought to be something doing 
in the morning. I’m glad we don’t have to do any 
plotting to-night, ’cause I don’t see how I could pos- 
sibly keep awake.” 

‘‘ No, it’s up to the others now,” agreed the Wise 
Guy. He bundled up some hay for a pillow, pulled 
off his shoes, and snuggled down. ‘‘ I wonder what 
Skipper and the rest are doing now,” he muttered. 

214 


SCOUTS IN BONDAGE 


‘‘ I suppose But there he fell asleep in the 

middle of the sentence. 

Meantime the rescuers were still on the march, 
sticking to their task with stubborn determination. 
They, too, were tired and footsore, but they could 
talk and joke with each other. They scanned both 
sides of the road for any rnarks the two captive 
scouts might have made, and so, as the moon was 
reaching its brightest, they came to the outskirts of 
Cranford’s village and saw the houses strung out 
along the road. 


XV 


THE ROUND-UP 

Philip, who was in the lead of the troop, stopped 
opposite a tree to the right of the road. ‘‘ What's 
this ? " he demanded, pointing to a stick with a white 
handkerchief tied to the end of it. ‘‘ Funny sort 
of a thing to be stuck in the snow.” He bent, and 
looked over the ground closely. ‘‘ Hello, some one's 
been drawing a cross close to it. Get busy, fellows, 
and see if you can discover anything else.” 

The rest gathered round and examined the 
ground with the greatest care. Then one boy called 
out, ‘‘ Here's something ! ” and picked up a little ball 
of paper. Almost immediately another boy found 
another ball, and a third picked up yet another. 
Mr. Grafton took an electric search-light from his 
pocket and examined the road with it. In a minute 
six balls of paper had been found. 

The balls were opened out, and read by the light 
of the electric torch. They're going to take the 
216 


THE ROUND-UP 


eight o’clock train from Middlebrook. W. G.” was 
what the scouts read. The Scout-master looked at 
his watch. ‘‘ It’s a quarter to twelve,” he said. 
“ They didn’t catch any eight o’clock train to-nighf. 
That means eight to-morrow morning.” 

‘‘Yes,” said Mr. Satterlee. “There isn’t any 
night train, but there ought to be one early in the 
morning. Middlebrook’ s a town a short way beyond 
Cranford’s.” 

Mr. Grafton looked about. There were a num- 
ber of houses and bams near by, but they were all 
wrapped in midnight quiet. “ It’s possible those men 
are spending the night in some one of these houses 
or bams,” he said, “ but there’s no way of telling 
which, and we don’t want to wake the neighborhood, 
or have some one take a pot-shot at us, thinking we’re 
thieves.” 

“ We do not,” agreed Mr. Satterlee positively. 
“ I shouldn’t wonder if they were somewhere around 
here, for the reason that they wouldn’t attract as 
much attention here as if they’d gone on to Middle- 
brook. They’ll probably make a dash for the train 
a little before it’s due in the morning.” 

“ That’s what they’ll likely do,” agreed Taplow. 

217 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


“ What’s the best plan of campaign? ” asked Mr. 
Grafton. 

‘‘ It seems to me,” said Mr. Satterlee, the thing 
to do is for Taplow and me to push on to Middle- 
brook, see if we can locate a couple of constables, 
bring ’em back with us, and arrest these fellows when 
they start toward town. I know Middlebrook, and 
I think I can find the officers I want.” 

“ That sounds good,” said Mr. Grafton, ‘‘ mean- 
time we’ll patrol the road and see they don’t give you 
the slip.” 

The idea of guarding the highroad appealed to 
the scouts, and they all chimed in with their ap- 
proval. They took up the march through the sleep- 
ing village, and leaving it back of them, came out on 
to the short stretch of open country that lay between 
it and the larger town. 

The Scout-master led them on till they came to 
where an old frame building, looking as if it might 
once have been used as a granary, covered with 
signs advertising various kinds of ploughs and farm 
supplies, stood fairly near the road. ‘‘ We don’t 
need more than a couple of pickets on the watch at 
once,” he said, ‘‘ and the rest ought to have a chance 
218 


THE ROUND-UP 


to get a nap. That’s a pretty rickety old shanty, but 
it’ll help to keep the cold out. We’ll stand watch 
in pairs, an hour at a time, and each pair must wake 
up the two to follow. Now let’s make up the relays.” 
He told the scouts off in couples, while Mr. Satterlee 
and Taplow hurried off in the direction of Middle- 
brook to find the constables. 

Sleepy as the boys were, the idea of such an ad- 
venture as guarding the road all night appealed to 
them tremendously. Philip and Sam Potter were 
the first pair and Sam took his station at one side 
of the road, while Philip perched temporarily on top 
of a stone wall. The rest of the troop went into the 
frame building and made themselves as comfortable 
as they could on some sacking they found on the 
floor. It didn’t take them long to fall asleep, though 
the beds weren’t nearly as comfortable as their own 
bunks at Snow-Shoe Lodge. 

It wasn’t bad to stand sentinel for a short time, 
but presently Philip and Sam found that it was cold 
work if they kept still and that their leg muscles 
ached if they moved about. They even grew tired 
of watching the light clouds float across the moon, 
and of trying to name as many constellations as they 
219 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


could. They chatted, they tramped up and down, 
they sat on the stone wall until they were chilled, 
and wondered that it took so long for sixty minutes 
to pass. No one passed by, not even a wandering 
owl or night-hawk, and the fields of snow stretching 
to either side of them made the midnight seem un- 
naturally still. 

As soon as the hour was up the two tiptoed into 
the out-building and woke the scouts who were to 
stand the next watch. Haven’t been to sleep at 
all,” said Tom Mallard, sitting up and rubbing his 
eyes. “What are you doing?” exclaimed John 
Turner, as Philip pulled him by the collar. “ Oh, 
I know; all right, come on, Tom,” he added, jump- 
ing up. 

So these two boys took their place on the road 
with a great deal of yawning and stretching of arms. 
“ The only way to get the stiffness out of our legs,” 
said Tom, after they had discussed the surprising 
soreness of their muscles, “ is to keep on exercising. 
Let’s play leap-frog from here to the comer of the 
fence and back.” 

Up and down the road they went, jumping over 
each other’s backs, a strange sight on the highroad at 
220 


THE ROUND-UP 


that hour. But the game kept them awake and made 
the time pass quickly, so that they were very much 
surprised when they looked at their watches to see 
that it was time to wake the next pair. 

The third watch saw the moon dipping behind the 
trees. They did a little exploring, going down the 
road to a small bridge that crossed a little stream, 
where they stood and threw stones to see how thick 
the ice was. They heard roosters crowing, and 
thought they heard a wagon lumbering along in the 
distance. Just before their watch was up, Mr. 
Satterlee, Taplow, and two constables they had 
routed out in the town arrived. All four men went 
into the bam and tried to find comfortable places 
to nap. 

So pair followed pair while the moon set and day 
slowly dawned. More roosters were to be heard 
as the light gradually spread in the east. Presently 
a farmer’s wagon drove by, and the man on the 
seat was surprised to find two boys standing in the 
road, peering closely at him. The scouts let him 
pass without a challenge, but the farmer sang out. 
What’s up? Want a lift to town? ” No, thank 
you,” answered one of the boys. He gave no ex- 
221 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


planation of what they were doing there, and the 
farmer, though he looked somewhat puzzled, decided 
it was none of his business, and drove on toward 
the village. 

The winter day dawned, grey and chill, the boys 
on watch waked Mr. Grafton and the two scouts of 
his watch. Then, at the end of an hour, the Scout- 
master woke all the party, and they turned out into 
the road, eager for the business in hand. The con- 
stables outlined their plans ; every one was to hide ; 
Mr. Grafton was to let them know when he saw the 
missing scouts and the trappers, and the constables 
would whistle when they wanted the troop to appear 
and surround the men. 

A few wagon drivers and one or two pedestrians 
passed along the road, quite unconscious of the fact 
that they were being closely scrutinized by so many 
eyes. Mr. Grafton looked at his watch ; it was nearly 
seven o’clock ; the men must surely be coming along 
soon now. Then he caught sight of four men on 
foot, with two boys, coming from the direction of 
Cranford’s. He gave a low whistle, and stepped 
out into the road, while the scouts hid in the old 
shack and down behind the stone walls. 


222 



THE SCOUTS HID IN THE OLD SHACK AND BEHIND THE STONE WALL 


t k 


f 


X' 



THE ROUND-UP 


Max and the Wise Guy saw the Scout-master 
strolling along the road, twirling his staff in his hand. 
Neither of them gave any sign of recognizing him. 
The party of six came up with him, and he stopped. 

Can you tell me if that’s Cranford Village? ” he 
asked. ‘‘ I’m a stranger hereabouts.” 

Pollard and the others slowed up. “ Yes, that’s 
Cranford’s,” said Pollard, “but it ain’t much of a 
village.” 

“ What’s the time? ” asked Mr. Grafton. 

Pollard put his hand to his belt to pull out his 
watch, and at the same instant there was a shrill 
whistle, and men and boys dashed out from the build- 
ing and jumped over the walls. The constables 
thrust themselves in front of the startled trappers, 
announced who they were, showed their revolvers 
and the badges of their office. The scouts stood in 
a close circle, hemming the trappers in, and Mr. 
Satterlee and Taplow, the latter with his coat open 
to show his badge as a special officer, stood just 
behind the scouts. The poachers swore, looked as if 
they would like to fight or make a dash for freedom, 
but realized the odds were too many against them, 
and after a minute or two surrendered to the officers. 


223 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


The constables handcuffed their four prisoners, 
while some of the boys picked up the bundles of pelts 
the trappers had dropped. Max and the Wise Guy 
were dancing around in delight. 

“ That’s a nice piece of work ! said Mr. 
Satterlee. Are you two fellows all right? ” 

‘'All right,” cried Max and the Wise Guy to- 
gether. And the latter added, “ I knew you’d find 
my message and get here before ’em. I said they 
would, didn’t I, Max? ” 

“ Now,” said Mr. Satterlee to the trappers, 
“ we’re going to take you to Middlebrook, and hand 
you over to the law. You’re caught red-handed, 
stealing skins that belong to me. I don’t think we’ll 
need any better evidence than those bundles of 
skins.” 

There was nothing for the poachers to say, and 
so, although they muttered and grumbled and pre- 
tended that they had been badly used, they faced 
toward Middlebrook and marched along with the 
constables as they were ordered. 

That was a triumphal journey for Max and the 
Wise Guy. The other scouts crowded around them, 
and wanted to hear every detail of their capture and 

224 


THE ROUND-UP 


imprisonment. Then those two had to hear Skipper 
tell how he’d climbed the tree and finally carried word 
of what had happened to camp, and then they wanted 
to know what the troop had been doing, and whether 
they had picked up all the signals along the road. So 
much seemed to have happened that Max said it 
must be at least a week since the three of them had 
left the lake. ‘‘ Perhaps we didn’t sleep in that hay- 
mow last night ! ” said he. And I certainly do feel 
fine this morning ! ” 

That was the way they all felt, and as the sun 
rose higher in a cloudless blue sky and warmed the 
air they could have danced all the way to Middle- 
brook. The Scout-master and Mr. Satterlee seemed 
to feel much the same way, Mr. Grafton started to 
sing Brown October Ale,” and Mr. Satterlee joined 
in with him, and then those of the scouts who weren’t 
telling each other what had been happening, and they 
kept up the singing until they reached the outskirts 
of the town. 

Middlebrook was wide awake by now, and people 
on the streets and at windows looked in great sur- 
prise at the small procession tramping by in such a 
business-like way. Mr. Satterlee and the constables 
15 225 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


marched their prisoners to the office where a Justice 
of the Peace administered the local law. The Justice 
himself looked very much surprised when they all 
appeared before him. What’s this ? ” he de- 
manded, putting on his big spectacles and trying to 
look as wise as he could. Don’t tell me the French 
and Indians have been raiding the colonies again? 
Or have you caught some smugglers coming over 
from Canada?” Some of the boys laughed; the 
Justice, who wore a black cap to keep his head warm, 
and who was pointing a ruler at Mr. Satterlee, looked 
very much like a picture of an old-fashioned country 
school-master asking questions of a class. 

Mr. Satterlee explained the situation, telling 
who he was and how these men had been caught 
trapping animals on his land and carrying the skins 
away. He wanted warrants for the men’s arrest 
and then he wanted the constables to go with him 
and Taplow and their prisoners on the train to the 
county-seat, where they could be lodged in jail. 
The Justice issued the warrants and then the prison- 
ers were marched down to the railroad station. 

The procession, now enlarged by at least a score 
of the men and boys of Middlebrook, reached the 
226 


THE ROUND-UP 


station a few minutes before the morning train 
pulled in. Mr. Satterlee, Taplow, their two aides 
and the prisoners, boarded the smoking-car. “ I’ll 
see you all soon,” the young man called to the troop 
from the car-platform. ‘‘ I’ll be back at the Lake 
by to-night, and then we’ll have a celebration.” The 
scouts waved their hats and cheered as the train 
pulled out, south-bound. 

“ A mighty good job, that,” said Mr. Grafton. 
“ And now I think it’s about time that we hunted 
up some breakfast.” 

“ Breakfast ! ” said Skipper. ‘‘ Why, I’d forgot- 
ten that we hadn’t had any.” 

I was just beginning to feel empty,” declared 
Max. '' My, wouldn’t some flap- jacks taste good! ” 
‘‘ Where’s the hotel ? ” Mr. Grafton asked the 
station-master, and as soon as he heard he called 
out, Come along, boys. We’ve got to get there 
before they start to clear up the breakfast things I ” 
The thought of missing breakfast added wings 
to their feet. The troop reached the hotel in record 
time, stormed in at the office door, demanded the 
way to the dining-room, and made such a rush at the 
table that the waitresses almost fled in fear. ‘‘ What 


227 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


have you left for breakfast?” Mr. Grafton asked. 
One of the waitresses recited a list of foods. Bring 
us some of all that,” Mr. Grafton said, and the boys 
chorused, All of it, and then as much more as is 
left.” . 

The Middlebrook Hotel had never seen such ap- 
petites, but then it had never seen a crowd of boy 
scouts who had been on* the march for practically 
twenty- four hours. Food vanished like snow before 
the sun, and the boys topped off the meal with quan- 
tities of buckwheat-cakes in order to make sure that 
they shouldn’t get hungry again until lunch. 

Afterwards they went out on the long porch that 
ran the length of the hotel on the main street, and 
sunned themselves and rested. By this time the town 
had almost all heard the story of their adventures, 
and a good number of people came up and asked 
questions. They tried to bear their laurels modestly, 
but they couldn’t help being pretty well pleased with 
what they had done. And as they told their adven- 
tures the stories couldn’t help growing a little. Pres- 
ently Sam Potter whispered to Philip, You ought 
to hear the Wise Guy. He’s a pretty clever scout 
all right, but to listen to the line of talk he’s been 
228 


THE ROUND-UP 


giving those fellows over there you’d think that 
Skipper and he were the greatest little detectives that 
ever came down the pike. Why, he’s got them slid- 
ing down the roof of a house forty feet high ! ” 

Philip looked over to where the Wise Guy’s 
striped toque was waving back and forth as he talked 
excitedly to an admiring circle. Well, he isn’t the 
sort to get a swelled head,” he said. ‘‘And, by Jove, 
we wouldn’t have had those men if it hadn’t been for 
him and Skipper ! ” 

The group around the boy in the striped toque 
was growing and growing, the men and boys of 
Middlebrook deserted the other scouts and gathered 
round the Wise Guy. Then the scouts themselves 
crowded about him to hear, and soon everyone on 
the hotel porch was listening to the thrilling adven- 
tures he was excitedly describing. Some of the 
scouts chuckled, others nudged each other and 
winked, but they all let him go on until he had fin- 
ished it in a blaze of glory. “ That’s all,” he wound 
up to the audience of open-mouthed townsfolk. 
“ Really and truly, that’s every bit there is to tell.” 

Gradually the crowd moved away and left the 
porch to the scouts. “ See here, Wise Guy,” Philip 

229 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


said then, what in thunder was all that yam you 
were giving those people? ” 

The Wise Guy grew red for a minute. Then he 
smiled. “ Why, that was the plot of a play I saw 
at the theatre last Christmas holidays,” he answered. 

‘‘ Oh, that was it, was it? ” said Philip. You 
know I thought ” 

Here Max interrupted him. But his story 
wasn’t half as exciting as what really happened to us 
at the house by Beaver Pond ; was it ? ” 

Skipper and the Wise Guy answered like one. 
It certainly was not ! ” 

Philip shook his head. I didn’t suppose there 
was so much nerve as you three fellows have got,” 
said he. What’ll that adventure sound like when 
you tell it to your families ? ” 

The three heroes, however, were not affected by 
his sarcasm. “ I dare say any of you others would 
have done as well,” said Skipper. Then he added, 
*Hf you’d been clever enough to get on the men’s 
trail.” 

The other scouts had to be contented with that 
admission from him, though for a moment several of 
them were tempted to roll all three heroes in the 
snow. 


230 


XVI 


THE RETURN TO THE CASTLE 

‘‘ Now/^ said Mr. Grafton, it’s a good long 
hike back to the lodge. Perhaps we could get some 
teams here. \Vhat do you say? Are your muscles 
too tired to try footing it home? ” 

The scouts all said they wouldn’t think of riding, 
they were just in the humor for a good long hike. 
So snow-shoes were strapped on, provisions pro- 
cured at the town grocery and bake-shop, inquiries 
made as to another road by which they could return 
to Saulsbury, and a farewell bade to the hospitable 
little town of Middlebrook. They tramped along 
over the new road, as fresh and fit as ever. 

Sometimes they stopped to examine tracks in the 
snow and discuss what animal or bird had made 
them, sometimes they turned aside to try sliding on 
some ice-covered pond, occasionally they rested on 
a fence, sitting there in a row like a flock of crows 
231 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


until one would jump down again and all the others 
would immediately follow. They were as frisky as 
colts at play. They passed several farm-houses, 
where they stopped for a few minutes to help some 
man or woman carry firewood indoors or do some 
other chore. Once they saw a girl carrying two 
heavy buckets of water from the house to the barn. 
There was a dash to reach her, and the buckets were 
carried for her, while she laughed at the ridiculous 
stunts the scouts tried to do on their snow-shoes for 
her entertainment. Max tried to walk on his hands, 
waving his snow-shoes in the air, and fell into a 
snow-bank. The girl ran over to help him up. ‘‘ Are 
you hurt?’’ she asked anxiously. ‘^Hurt?” said 
Sandy Simmons. You couldn’t hurt him if you 
pushed him off a roof. He’s made of rubber.” 

Max sat up in the drift, looking not unlike a 
snow-bunny. “ That fellow’s right,” he exclaimed. 
“ My muscles are made of rubber. Would you like 
to see me walk on the back of my neck ? ” 

Oh, no,” said the girl in alarm. 

‘‘You’re missing a treat,” said Max, “but I 
won’t if you don’t want me to.” And he scampered 
away on all fours, more like a snow-bunny than ever, 
232 


THE RETURN TO THE CASTLE 


while the girl laughed as long as she could see him. 

Having had breakfast late they did not feel 
hungry until some time after noon. Then they 
stopped and emptied their knapsacks of provisions. 
‘‘ We can’t be very far from the lake now,” Mr. 
Grafton said, when the last crumb had vanished. 
“ We’ve made pretty quick time on the back-trail.” 

Half an hour later a strange roar or grunt or 
growl sounded from some woods to their right. 
“ Sounds like the Buffaloes,” said Philip. Imme- 
diately the Blue Herons began to give their signal 
cry, “ Hr-r-r-r,” and the Beavers to clap their hands 
as noisily as they could. Then out from the woods 
ran the rest of the troop, with Mr. Robins. Both 
parties whooped and yelled like Indians at a war- 
dance. Each shouted their messages to the other, 
how each had rounded up some of the trappers. 
“ We’re to go up to the Castle,” reported Mr. Robins, 
“ and all have supper there. Mr. Satterlee’s guests 
want to hear all about it.” 

Dick grinned, he thought Mr. Robins wanted 
another chance to see the young lady with the twink- 
ling eyes. 

Each of the three leaders formed his own patrol 
233 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


in line. Then they set out again toward Saulsbury. 
It was mid-afternoon when they arrived at the little 
settlement, and word of what they had done had 
evidently reached the village, for most of the men 
were gathered on the post-office porch. Ezra 
Whipple took off his hat and waved it, crying, 
‘‘ Hurrah for you scouts ! Couldn’t have done it 
better if Fd tried myself ! ” 

“ Speech, speech ! ” cried Dick, as the boys often 
called on the captain of a team at school that had 
won a victory. 

Mr. Whipple smiled as if pleased, and stepping 
forward, made a few remarks which were greeted 
with loud cheers by the boys and the audience on 
the porch. 

Then up the hill they climbed to the big, rambling 
Castle, the vrindows of which caught the brilliant 
afternoon sun and blazed as if there were candles 
set in each frame. There on the terrace stood Mr. 
Hackett and Miss Parrish and the other guests and 
they all cheered and Mr. Hackett did a Highland 
Fling as the troop came up to them. “ Where’s 
Hugh Satterlee?” Miss Parrish asked. He took 
the train at Middlebrook this morning,’’ Mr. Grafton 

234 


THE RETURN TO THE CASTLE 


answered. ‘‘ Bound for a jail strong enough to hold 
his prisoners. But he said you might expect him 
back here to-night.’’ 

‘‘ And you fellows have tramped all the way 
from Middlebrook to-day? ” exclaimed Mr. Hackett. 
“ My word ! Canadian voyageurs haven’t got any- 
thing on you when it comes to snow-shoeing ! Well, 
you’ll be glad to hear that I turned the two chaps 
we caught over to the proper authorities down at the 
village and that they took them in a sleigh to the 
railroad, so they’ll probably all be comfortably 
lodged where they ought to be to-night. I wouldn’t 
waste much sympathy on them either, they’ve taken 
an awful lot of pelts out of Hugh’s woods.” 

As they were talking Ezra Whipple came up to 
the terrace, and bowing to the ladies, said, ‘‘ I was 
wondering if we could get up a curling-match over 
on Mr. Satterlee’s rink? My arm’s just aching for 
a try with the stones.” 

‘‘ Sure we can,” said Mr. Robins. “ I hear 
you’re quite a champion at the game.” 

“ Oh, no,” said Mr. Whipple, modestly. I can 

lick most of the men in Saulsbury, but I ain’t as 
2S5 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 

naturally athletic as most of you fellows. You 
needn’t be skeered of me.” 

They all adjourned to the rink, which was a fine 
sheet of ice that covered a swimming-pool Mi^. 
Satterlee had had specially constructed. There were 
real curling-stones, round, beautifully polished on 
the bottom, with iron handles. Sides were chosen 
and the game began, a very much more scientific 
game than the rough Bounders the boys had invented 
on the ice in front of the lodge. 

Ezra Whipple had the curler’s knack, he could 
start a stone slowly, but have it travel along to the 
place where he wanted it, and when it came to sweep- 
ing, it was wonderful how he could help the stones 
along with his broom. He captained one team and 
Duck the other, and they had a splendid tussle, but 
Whipple came out on top, and had a medal, made of 
a cake with a hole in the centre and tied with a rib- 
bon, pinned to his coat by Miss Parrish. ‘‘ I guess 
you’ve got Scotch blood in you somewhere, Mr. 
Whipple,” said the Scout-master. I shouldn’t 
wonder if a lot of your ancestors hurried out of the 
kirk early on fine Sabbath mornings to have a try 
with the stones.” 


236 


THE RETURN TO THE CASTLE 


‘‘ Mebbe, mebbe/’ agreed Ezra. rm glad 
there’s no curling-rink near the Saulsbury church. 
If there was it would take a mighty fine sermon 
to keep my fingers from itching for a try at the 
game.” 

While this match was on, many other things were 
happening. Mr. Robins and Miss Parrish, though 
they pretended to be watching with the greatest in- 
terest, laughed a great deal at little things they whis- 
pered to each other, and which couldn’t have had 
much to do with the game. Sandy Simmons and 
Philip had put on skis and were trying ski-jumping 
down the hill, which they picked up pretty fast, 
though they got enough bumps to make an ordinary 
boy black and blue from his head to his heels. 
Skipper and Max and the Wise Guy were sitting 
on the terrace, resting, and telling each other for 
the hundredth time how much they had enjoyed 
being taken prisoners. The Wise Guy was twisting 
his favorite lock of hair around one finger, Max had 
his elbows on his knees, and his chubby face in his 
hands, and Skipper, slim and wiry, was stretched 
out in a steamer-chair, lifting one leg and then the 
other in order to exercise his tired muscles. 


237 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


Mr. Hackett came up and sat down near the 
three. “ Fve got a fine idea,” said he, and I’d like 
to know what you think of it. Hugh Satterlee’s 
planning to have a party on Saturday night, a real 
party for the troop and all his guests. Now I pro- 
pose we make it partly a surprise to him. Every- 
body dress up in some original costume, it’ll give us 
all a chance to see how original we can be. Each of 
us’ll be our favorite character, and perhaps he won’t 
be surprised when he sees who he’s got as guests! 
How does that scheme strike you ? ” 

‘‘ Sounds fine,” said Skipper. If it wasn’t 
winter I’d like to come as the tattooed man.” 

‘‘ It’s a bully idea,” agreed the Wise Guy, still 
twisting his lock of hair. And then we could act 
each part. But where are we going to get the things 
to dress up in? ” 

That’s where your ingenuity comes in,” said 
Mr. Hackett. “ You’ve got the store in the village, 
and your camp-things, and your own wits.” 

‘‘ It’ll be a sort of a rough-house,” exclaimed 
Max. ‘‘ You can always count me in on any rough- 
house.” 

I’ll tip the others off, too,” said Mr. Hackett, 

238 


THE RETURN TO THE CASTLE 


‘‘ but we must keep it secret, so Hugh won’t catch 
on. It seems to me it would be better if you didn’t 
even tell each other what you’re going to be.” 

“ That’s pretty hard for a fellow who talks as 
much as the Wise Guy,” suggested Skipper. 

‘‘ Rats ! ” said the Wise Guy, scornfully. “ I’ll 
bet none of you know what I am tih you see me 
here.” 

There was a sound of sleigh-bells then, and from 
the direction opposite to the lake a sleigh dashed up 
to the Castle. Mr. Satterlee was in it, and he greeted 
his guests with a whoop. We’ve got the whole 
crowd safe in jail now,” said he, and all the ani- 
mals on our side of the lake can run about without 
danger of being caught in any beastly trap. I tried 
to get Taplow to come up here with me for a bit of 
supper, but he would push on to his own diggings. 
He said he wanted to go through the woods and see 
that none of the men had left any of their infernal 
things behind them.” 

The boys came in from the curling-rink, from 
the ski-jump, from wherever they had wandered. 
All trooped into the house, where they made ready 
for supper. At seven o’clock everybody appeared 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


in the big hall again, where two long tables had been 
placed. There was a card with each guest’s name 
at one or the other table, and it didn’t take anybody 
long to find his or her seat and start in on the cream 
of tomato soup. After that followed a regular 
Thanksgiving dinner, which allowed the scouts to 
make up for the rather scanty meals they had had 
to put up with for the last two days. It happened 
that the Wise Guy was seated on one side of Miss 
Parrish and Mr. Robins on the other. Oddly enough 
that charming young lady seemed to want to talk 
to the Wise Guy most of the time, asking him a 
great many questions about his adventures, which of 
course was flattering, but which prevented him from 
eating as steadily as he would have liked to. It 
also seemed to annoy Mr. Robins, who found it hard 
to get a word in edgewise. Only when the ice cream 
with hot chocolate sauce was brought in did Miss 
Parrish relent and allow the Wise Guy to give his 
entire attention to the heaping plate in front of him. 
She glanced at Mr. Robins mischievously. ‘‘ Too 
bad you didn’t have some adventures, too,” she said. 

Your appetite doesn’t seem to be as good as that 
of my left-hand neighbor.” 

240 


THE RETURN TO THE CASTLE 


I don’t often have such company,” he answered 
in a low voice. What’s ice-cream compared with 
a chance to talk to you? ” 

Max, sitting across the table, and doing a little 
detective work of his own, caught the words, low 
though they were. He frowned, and hastily gobbled 
a macaroon. He was growing more and more afraid 
that Mr. Robins was going to do something foolish, 
like trying to marry the young woman with the dark 
eyes, and give up devoting all his attention to coach- 
ing the baseball team. He thought the Wise Guy’s 
attitude much more praiseworthy; you could talk 
any time, but you could only eat such a dinner as 
this very occasionally. 

The feast over, Mr. Satterlee called on his friend 
Hackett to sing for the crowd. Mr. Hackett stood 
up and gave them a concert; he could yodel like a 
Swiss chamois-hunter, and he knew any number of 
comic songs. Then four of the scouts, who called 
themselves the Bull-frog Quartette, sang some of 
their camp songs, putting their heads very close to- 
gether and looking almost as serious as bull- frogs 
when they came to the close harmony ” parts. 

‘‘ Time to be off,” announced Mr. Grafton pres- 

241 


16 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


ently. '‘Those bunks in camp sound pretty good 
after that sacking I slept on last night/' 

“ Fm going to have a farewell party Saturday 
night," announced Mr. Satterlee. " Til expect 
every one here at seven o'clock." 

Good-nights were said, sweaters and toques were 
pulled on, outside the snow-shoes were strapped on 
again. Down the hill went the troop, through the 
village, asleep in the moonlight, and out on to the 
wide lake. 

Every one was feeling well pleased with the 
world, and although they all thought they could do 
pretty well at sleeping, the cold air and the fine night 
made them still feel frisky. So when they came to 
the little bay by Taplow’s cabin they turned aside for 
a minute. The hunter had heard their voices and 
stood in the door, his pipe in his hand. " Well, 
boys," he said, " the animals told me to say they’re 
much obleeged to you. They're runnin' around 
again just as they used to do. Shouldn't be sur- 
prised if you met some o' 'em on your way to camp." 

“ The beavers can build all the dams in their 
pond they want," said Duck, " and gnaw down all 
the trees." 


242 


THE RETURN TO THE CASTLE 


Taplow nodded. “ I heerd some o’ the young 
uns say as I come by the pond as how they’d like 
to move into that there house, but old Grandfather 
Beaver said the scouts had done all the gnawin’ at 
the roof that was needed there.” He knocked his 
pipe against his heel. ‘‘And he said as how he’d 
like me to present his compliments to the Beaver 
Patrol in particular.” 

“ Come down to camp soon ! ” they sang out to 
him, and made back to the lake. Soon they had 
reached their own bank, and were trooping up to 
the lodge. 

It seemed as if they had been away for a month. 
Each patrol went to its cabin, built up its fire, made 
things snug for the night. Max handled the 
blankets in his bimk. “ My, but they feel good ! 
Now I know how the fishermen feel the first night 
they’re home after they’ve been fishing for a couple 
of weeks. Hay isn’t so bad, but blankets and sheets 
are a whole lot better.” 

It didn’t take them long to get ready for bed, and 
almost as soon as they tumbled into their bunks most 
of them were asleep. Skipper, however, stayed 
awake a short time, and presently he peeped over 
the edge of his bed to look at the Wise Guy. The 

1243 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


latter was still awake, and was twisting his pet lock 
of hair. ‘'You aren’t plotting anything new, are 
you? ” muttered Skipper. “ Because if you are, be 
sure to count me in on it.” 

“I was just wondering,” said the Wise Guy, 
“ why that Miss Parrish wanted to talk to me so 
much at supper. There was Mr. Robins on the other 
side, and he’s nearer to her age. If she hadn’t asked 
so many questions I might have had more of that 
fried chicken.” 

“ Women always like heroes,” answered Skipper. 
“ I shouldn’t wonder if when you got back to school 
they’d come round begging for locks of your hair.” 

“ I don’t mind being polite,” said the Wise Guy, 
“ but I don’t like to answer a lot of fool questions 
when I might be eating. I’ll have to think up some 
way to show ’em that I don’t want to be bothered at 
times like that.” 

“ Huh,” grunted Skipper, “ a hero’s got to ex- 
pect to be bothered sometimes. You’re lucky if they 
don’t want to take your photograph.” 

This suggestion, however, the Wise Guy received 
with silent contempt. And Skipper was now too 
sleepy to keep on teasing the boy in the bunk under 
him, much as he always enjoyed that sport. 

244 


XVII 

A WINTER CARNIVAL 

Sleigh-bells rang through the woods, horses' 
hoofs sent the snow flying, voices called gaily from 
one cutter to another. Between the trees the people 
in the three sleighs caught glimpses of the lake, a 
splendid stretch of sunlit snow and ice. The sleighs 
came to a stop in the road back of the lodge, and 
Hugh Satterlee and his friends jumped out. Chat- 
tering like magpies, they went around to the camp, 
where the scouts, having finished dinner an hour 
before, were eagerly waiting for them. A wide sec- 
tion of the lake, bigger than any skating-rink, was 
clear of snow; the troop had worked like Trojans 
to clear that space and have it ready for their winter 
sports. 

It took only a minute to strap on skates or put 
on heavy boots that had the skates screwed to them. 
Then the guests from the Castle and the boys were 
out on the ice, speeding up and down, practising 
backward and forward, the grapevine, the cross-roll, 
245 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


figures three, and other specialties of which each 
particular skater was fond. The Wise Guy, who was 
trying very hard to make a perfect maltese cross, 
saw Miss Parrish come skating in his direction. He 
hesitated, whether to fly or stay, thinking that she 
might want to ask him questions when he was bent 
on getting his figure right. But just before she 
reached him she swung into a new step, her skates 
cut a pattern he had never seen before, she did it 
as gracefully and easily as an artist might have 
drawn a design on a sheet of paper. “ How's that 
for a tulip star?" she demanded, as she finished 
the pattern and stood smiling at him. ‘‘You're 
some skater!" he cried, in open-eyed admiration. 
‘‘ That star's got the maltese cross lashed to the 
mast 1 " 

Miss Parrish beamed with pleasure. ‘‘ Then 
you’ll admit that a girl can do something, will you, 
Mr. Wise Guy? " she asked. 

‘‘ I take off my hat to you," he answered, pulling 
off his toque. “ Don't you want to show me how 
you do it ? " 

Skipper, happening to go skating by a few 
minutes later, was amazed to see the Wise Guy 
246 


A WINTER CARNIVAL 


and Miss Parrish swinging around on the ice hand 
in hand. ‘‘ Well now, what do you think- of that ! '' 
he muttered to himself. Might as well have ex- 
pected to see an elephant skating with a tadpole ! ” 
Mr. Satterlee and one of the other men now went 
back to the sleighs, and to everybody’s surprise re- 
turned with a small victrola, which they set up on 
the shore. In a few minutes the music of “ The 
Merry Widow ” waltz was heard across the lake. 
Mr. Hackett dashed up to Miss Parrish and made a 
low bow. Then the two went waltzing over the ice 
as smoothly and gracefully as if they were dancing 
on a ballroom floor. All the others stopped to watch 
them. The dancers swept and curved in perfect 
time, made quick turns, slower reverses, cut their 
figures of eight, occasionally speeding up to double 
time, and then again lengthening and slowing up 
their steps as the music grew more dreamy and rest- 
ful. The dance was based on figures of eight, as the 
man made his strokes his partner reversed the same 
steps, and each was very careful to keep the steps in 
perfect time to the music. Both were very fine 
skaters, no others could have made such a difficult 
performance seem so exceedingly easy. 

247 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


When that music stopped Mr. Satterlee put on 
the record of The Blue Danube.’^ Then everyone 
waltzed, or at least tried their best to. Duck got 
hold of Max, Skipper seized Dick firmly roimd the 
waist, all over the ice scouts went rolling round and 
round, cutting eights, slipping and tumbling about, 
most of them very nearly as graceful as circus 
clowns. Two or three couples got the hang of it, 
and looked very proud; but if a stranger had been 
watching most of them he would have thought they 
were trying to throw each other over. 

After three waltzes the bugle blew, and the ice 
was cleared for racing. All the scouts took part in 
this, the course being across to the other bank. In 
this Duck excelled, his long legs carried him like 
greased lightning across the ice. He won all his 
heats, and Sandy Simmons won all his. When the 
two met in the finals a great race resulted, all the 
rest lined the sides of the course and waved their 
caps and yelled at the tops of their voices. Stroke 
for stroke they covered most of the distance, but 
Duck put on an extra burst of speed as he neared 
the finish line, which had been marked some distance 

248 



A WINTER CARNIVAL 


this side of the bank, and shot across it the winner 
by a good five yards. 

Then those of the scouts who had been resting 
made up relay teams of the three patrols, four boys 
to each team, each boy to skate across and touch the 
hand of another of his team at the other end of the 
course, who was to skate back and touch a third 
boy, who would relay the touch over to the fourth 
member of the team. These races were very excit- 
ing, and there was even more yelling than at the 
single races. The Blue Herons finally won, and the 
eight boys of that patrol got together and cheered 
until they were so hoarse they could hardly speak. 

After that the scouts rested on the bank, and they 
certainly needed a rest after so much skating. The 
Scout-master and Mr. Robins and the other grown- 
ups took the field and showed what they could do. 
Mr. Robins was a good skater, but he was not in the 
same class with Mr. Hackett, who seemed to be able 
to do anything on skates. Yet Mr. Robins skated 
a good deal of the time with Miss Parrish, which 
probably made up to him for not being as wonderful 
a performer as the other man. 

Finally the hockey match began, one team, cap- 
249 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


tained by Max, and wearing red ribbons, playing 
against another captained by Dick, and wearing 
blue. Goal posts with nets were set up at either end 
of the rink, and Mr. Satterlee acted as referee. It 
was as thrilling a game of hockey as the troop had 
ever played, the score was even up to the last two 
minutes, when Skipper, playing forward on the red 
team, caught the puck fair and square with his stick, 
and drove it straight for the goal. That shot won 
the game; the Reds cheered for Skipper, cheered for 
their opponents, cheered the referee, and finally 
cheered the ladies. Then they all threw themselves 
exhausted on the rugs spread on the shore. It had 
certainly been a great carnival of skating. 

As the sun sank back of the woods the guests 
prepared to leave. The victrola was placed in one of 
the sleighs, and the three cutters drove off, the music 
of their merry bells carried back on the wind for a 
considerable distance. Then the cooks began to busy 
themselves with supper, the water-bearers to make 
their journey to the spring, the wood-choppers to lay 
in a stock of fuel, everybody to attend to some duty. 
The bugle sent its clear notes over lake and woods, 
and the flag was lowered from its pole. The sky 
250 


A WINTER CARNIVAL 


grew darker, stars came out, the moon rose, and the 
ice became a wonderful mirror reflecting the lights 
of the night-sky. Dick and Max, carrying wood 
to the kitchen fire, stopped to look at the silvered 
sheet of ice. You won’t see anything anywhere 
that’s much finer than that,” said Dick. Max nodded 
his head. Somehow moonlight always seems more 
wonderful than sunlight,” he declared. ' 

When the bugle called for supper every scout was 
in his place. They made the work of washing dishes 
easy by eating everything put on their plates. Then, 
when the cleaning up was done, and cooks were free 
from their duties, a fresh log was thrown on the 
fire in the big cabin, and all sat or lay before the 
hearth. At such times any boy felt free to ask any 
questions, and the Scout-master or Mr. Robins would 
try to answer them. Then usually the talk would 
drift into some one channel, and Mr. Grafton would 
tell them interesting yarns about outdoor life. That 
evening he happened to get on the subject of explora- 
tion, that love so many men have to see what lies 
beyond the horizon, just as boys, canoeing on a river, 
want to go on around the next turn and the next, 
to see what they can find. ‘‘We wanted to know 
251 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


what the country beyond these woods looked like,” 
said he. ‘‘We wanted to go up Hugh Satterlee's 
hill so we could get the lay of the land all round 
us ; and it was very much the same want that Francis 
Drake felt when he climbed a tree on a height in 
Central America and saw the distant waves of the 
Pacific. There was plenty of free land all about 
them when Daniel Boone and his friends moved 
from Pennsylvania into North Carolina. They 
could have had all the farm-lands they wanted right 
there, but to the west rose the Appalachian Moun- 
tains, great blue barriers they looked at every day. 
Daniel Boone felt that he must see what there was 
on the other side of those mountains, and so one 
day he set out, travelling on and on, always wanting 
to see what lay a little farther. That’s how men 
first travelled across the country, led on little by lit- 
tle, not even stopped by the great deserts of the 
Southwest or the Rocky Mountains, until they, too, 
saw the Pacific.” 

“ That’s the way I always feel,” said Duck. 
“ What a chance those fellows had for exploring ! ” 

“ Well,” agreed Mr. Grafton, “ they did have a 
great chance, the sea-rovers of Queen Elizabeth’s 
252 


A WINTER CARNIVAL 


time, the French adventurers in Canada, the more 
adventurous of the English colonists, the frontiers- 
men who took their families and all their household 
goods on the long trails over the plains, the gold- 
seekers in California of ’49. They wanted to ex- 
plore, to learn new things about nature, to find new 
ways to grow, and our scouts seem very much like 
them to me. The things we learn in schools and 
cities aren’t enough. Every healthy boy is really 
a brother of Francis Drake or Daniel Boone at heart, 
and he ought to have a chance to try his hand at the 
things they did.” 

‘‘ I don’t suppose they thought they were learn- 
ing new things,” suggested Max. They just hap- 
pened to pick things up as they went along.” 

And I don’t suppose you scouts know one-half 
what you’re learning or when you’re learning it,” 
returned Mr. Grafton, with a smile. But you’re 
learning something new every day you’re out here in 
the woods. You can’t help learning things when 
you’re out-of-doors.” He happened to glance at the 
Wise Guy, who was staring intently at the fire. ‘‘ I 
don’t mean things that you put down in note-books, 
but things that get to be a part of you, like how to 
253 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 

ease your leg-muscles when you’re on a snow-shoe 
hike.” 

I guess we’ve all learned that pretty thoroughly 
now,” laughed Philip. 

“ The best part of it is that all these things 
you learn, without actually knowing you’re learning 
them, make it just so much easier for you to learn 
other things,” continued the Scout-master. ‘‘ You 
mayn’t understand that now, but it’s so.” 

Skipper was lying on his back, looking up at the 
rafters. ‘‘ When I get back to school,” he said, “ I 
think I’ll read up about those fellows. I don’t sup- 
pose Daniel Boone ever caught any poachers, but I 
think I’ve got a better line on him.” 

Everybody laughed. ‘‘ It didn’t take very long 
to prove you were right,” Mr. Robins said to the 
Scout-master. “ Maybe catching those trappers’ll 
make Skipper stand head of the history class.” 

After a little more talk Mr. Robins got out his 
guitar and they all sang until the big log broke in a 
cloud of sparks, and Mr. Grafton, looking at his 
watch, announced that it was time for bed. 

When they went out-doors, however, it was very 
hard to keep away from another view of the lake in 
254 > 


A WINTER CARNIVAL 


the moonlight. By twos and threes they went down 
to the bank, some walked out on the ice, others went 
along the shore to get a better view northward. 

We’ve had a lot of skating to-day,” said Duck to 
Max, ‘‘ but I’d like to put on my skates and go right 
up that moon-path. I’ve canoed over a moon-path, 
but I haven’t ever skated over one.” 

‘‘ You’ll be getting sentimental next,” said Max, 
like Mr. Robins or the Wise Guy.” He put his arm 
over Duck’s shoulder and drew him firmly away 
from the tempting mirror of ice. 

Pine-knots, thrown on the hearth-fire in the Buf- 
faloes’ cabin, made the flames blaze up as the patrol 
got ready for bed. Every boy felt comfortably tired 
with so much skating, but also very fit. And when 
they had all climbed into their bunks and were watch- 
ing the fire send the shadows dancing up and down 
the walls, Philip spoke the general opinion of them 
all. “ Tell you what, fellows,” said he, camping 
out in summer’s all right, but it hasn’t got a patch 
over camping out in the good old wintertime ! ” 

All the Buffaloes grunted their assent, like a well- 
trained herd agreeing with their leader. 


255 


XVIII 


MYSTERIOUS PREPARATIONS 

The next day there was a general air of mystery 
around Snow-Shoe Lodge. Scouts kept stealing 
away from the crowd, whispering in twos and threes ; 
some went on secret errands to the village and re- 
turned with odd-looking bundles that they hid in 
their bunks or in corners of the storehouse or even 
in the trees. Others prowled about the woods, intent 
on some business of their own, like a beaver planning 
to build a private dam. Others again often were lost 
in thought, acting as if they had the affairs of nations 
weighing on their minds. 

Skipper and the Wise Guy and Max couldn’t 
keep apart; after their very successful exploit they 
felt that they naturally had a great deal in common. 
So they went up to Taplow’s cabin and sat on his 
rustic bench and conferred with him and with each 
other. “ I’m going to be Daniel Boone,” said Max, 
256 


MYSTERIOUS PREPARxiTIONS 


after a great deal of thought. ‘‘ I think I can get 
most of the stuff I need up at the store.’’ 

Skipper was busy whittling a stick. I’ve always 
wanted to be Captain Kidd,” he said slowly. “ It’s 
a hard part, but if I can get enough pistols and dirks 
and queer-looking weapons I think I can do it all 
right.” 

“ I kin make you a fine mustache out of the ends 
of a piece of rope,” volunteered Taplow. “ An’ you 
might smear red paint over your face an’ hands.” 
He considered the matter a moment, and then gave 
his thigh a resounding whack. There’s a house 
near the village where a couple o’ painter fellers come 
every summer, and they leave a great lot o’ fancy 
stuff up in the attic. I think Mrs. Jones might let 
ye borrow some o’ their traps.” 

What are you going to be? ” Max asked the 
Wise Guy, who had been sitting very quietly, swing- 
ing one leg over the other, and chewing a twig. 

I think you’d enjoy it more if I didn’t tell you,” 
said the latter. ‘‘ It’s something very remarkable.” 

Oh, if you don’t want to tell us ” sniffed 

Max. 

‘‘You’ll enjoy it more if I don’t,” asserted the 

257 


17 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


Wise Guy, in his positive manner. ‘‘ Won’t you take 
us up to Mrs. Jones’s house, and see what she’s 
got? ” he added, to Taplow. 

That worthy woman, busy with her baking, was 
much surprised to receive a call from Taplow and 
three scouts that morning. She listened to their 
story, and after making them promise to take the 
best of care of anything they might borrow, gave 
them the free run of her garret. The artists had 
left their trunks and boxes open, and the boys went 
through them. All sorts of treasures were there, 
costumes that might have been used for kings and 
princes, Indians and cowboys. Max found a buck- 
skin suit that was just what he wanted, and Skipper 
a couple of red handkerchiefs, a beaded jacket, 
green trousers, and several very wicked-looking 
knives, all sheathed fortunately, that he thought 
would make an excellent beginning for his costume 
of the pirate chief. To the great surprise of the 
others, the Wise Guy, after carefully overhauling 
everything in the attic, finally was satisfied with a 
dark robe, a dull blue-black, that covered him from 
head to foot. 


258 


MYSTERIOUS PREPARATIONS 


‘‘ I know what you’re going to be ; a magician ! ” 
exclaimed Skipper. 

“ No, he’s going as the Sleeping Beauty,” said 
Max scornfully. 

‘‘ You couldn’t guess in a thousand tries,” said 
the Wise Guy. ‘‘ I don’t believe you’ll guess even 
when you see me at the party.” 

What’s the good of the disguise then?” de- 
manded Skipper. If nobody knows what you 
are?” 

‘‘ I shall know,” said the Wise Guy. And when 
I tell you what I am you’ll be surprised you didn’t 
think of it.” 

It isn’t something we never heard of, is it? ” 
demanded Skipper, suspiciously. 

You’ve heard of it, and you’ve seen it very 
often,” the other returned; and turning on his heel, 
he walked downstairs and showed Mrs. Jones what 
he had selected. 

All that afternoon the mysterious work went on. 
Skipper and Max went down the lake to the little 
cove where Dick and Skipper had first seen the tracks 
of the trappers, and there they worked over their 
costumes, and made themselves mustaches out of 
259 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


ravelled rope, and had a dress' rehearsal. Duck and 
Philip, over at the house by Beaver Pond, were 
laughing as they sorted out the stuff they had bought 
at Saulsbury, and cut and pinned and sewed it 
clumsily to suit their purposes. Sandy Simmons had 
hid his plunder in a little lean-to he had found on 
the other side of the lake, and Dick and Sam Potter, 
perched on the limbs of a tree in the depths of the 
woods, were chattering and working away like two 
gigantic birds preparing their nest. 

Mr. Grafton, standing down on the shore, looked 
up and down the ice, and didn’t see a single scout. 
“ Whew ! ” he whistled. This is a lonesome-look- 
ing spot right now. I guess I’d better go and get 
busy myself.” 

He went to the storehouse and looked in. There 
sat Mr. Robins, cutting a roll of red cheesecloth with 
a pair of shears. ‘‘ Everybody’s doing it ! ” ex- 
claimed the Scout-master. ‘‘ You might think the 
camp had turned into a dressmaker’s establishment. 
Come on, old chap, get on your skis and let’s go for 
a hike.” 

“ Can’t do it now,” answered Mr. Robins. ‘‘ Pm 
going to be Walter Raleigh, and this is the cape 
260 


MYSTERIOUS PREPARATIONS 


Pm going to spread in the mud. Some cape that, 
what ? I think it’ll make the ladies envious.” 

Meantime the Wise Guy, his manner as mys- 
terious as it was possible to be, had gone to the 
store at Saulsbury and bought a round pasteboard 
box, some ten inches deep, with a diameter of about 
a foot. He also purchased a small pot of yellow 
paint and a brush. 

He took the box and paint to a little clearing in 
the woods, a place he had discovered several days 
before, where a fallen tree made a comfortable bench. 
Here he began work, cutting away part of the paste- 
board side of the box, and then making rows of 
eyelet-holes in the cover and side and rimning a 
heavy cord through the eyelet-holes, much as 
one laces a shoe. He did this with great neat- 
ness, for he was clever with his hands, and when 
he had finished he had a box that would open 
and shut somewhat on the fashion of an accor- 
dion. Then he opened the pot of paint and dipping 
his brush in it, carefully covered the box with yellow, 
giving it several coats, so that the whole thing finally 
had the even rich color of a lemon pie. He set it 
against a tree to dry, and surveyed it proudly. 

261 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


“ That’s going to be a real costume,” he murmured 
to himself, and then looked around to make sure that 
no one had overheard him. 

While the paint was drying he took several pieces 
of stiff cardboard from his pocket and cut out a num- 
ber of small stars. He made a couple of dozen of 
these, and then put them back in his pocket. By that 
time the box was dry, so he picked it up and carried 
it to Taplow’s cabin. 

The door of the cabin, as usual, was unlocked, 
so he went in and put the box on a high shelf. As 
he was standing outside, looking down the lake, the 
owner of the shack appeared. ‘‘ Hello,” said Taplow. 

What’s up now ? You haven’t got any more val’ble 
information for me, have you? ” 

The Wise Guy grinned. “ I put a yellow box on 
your shelf,” said he. I’m coming up here to-night 
to get it again and do some more work on it. If 
you don’t mind I’d like to leave it here, so none of 
the troop’ll see it.” 

My door’s always on the latch to you,” re- 
sponded the man. ‘‘If you don’t have to be hurryin’ 

away sit down and let’s have a little chat. There’s 
262 


MYSTERIOUS PREPARATIONS 


one or two pints o’ woodcraft Pd like to discuss 
with you.” 

The Wise Guy sat down, and Taplow;, lighting 
his pipe, began to discourse of the habits of moose he 
had known. The boy was an excellent listener, and 
the hunter had taken a great liking to him ; there was 
something about the Wise Guy that made people 
naturally want to talk to him. 

Supper-time found him back at camp, and the 
bugle brought all the scouts hurrying from their 
different jobs. There was a good deal of skylarking 
and noise in the big cabin, as some pretended to 
know what others had been doing and the latter 
indignantly denied all accusations. “ Duck’s train- 
ing to be Pocahontas,” announced Philip. “ I caught 
him pulling in his belt, and he’s hardly eating any- 
thing, so he’ll be nice and slender. That curly hair 
of his is just the thing for an Indian princess.” 

Quit your kidding,” said Duck, helping himself 
to more of the waffles as if to disprove the charge 
about his appetite. Max is going to be Pocahontas. 
He’s got a nice little dimple in his chin.” 

‘‘ I guess I am the best looking of the crowd,” 
263 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


agreed Max. “ But I haven’t big brown eyes like 
Dick. There’s a fine girl for you.” 

So it went about the tables until Skipper suddenly 
jumped up and struck Max on the head with a des- 
sert-spoon. I’ve got it,” he cried. ‘‘ The Wise 
Guy’s going to be a great homed owl ! Gee, but he’ll 
make a fine one ! He looks wise enough, and he’s the 
greatest little hooter in the world ! ” 

Everybody yelled and pounded on the tables. 
‘‘ That’s what he’s going to be ! ” “ Great homed 

Owl ! ” Great horned Wise Guy! ” Let’s hear 
him hoot ! ” The cries rang back and forth, while 
the object of all this sudden attention grew very red 
in the face. Then he too banged on the table and 
jumped up. “ Well, I’d rather be an owl than a pack 
of monkeys ! ” 

There were more yells at that, and somebody 
tried to catch hold of him, but he skipped out of the 
cabin, and when they came chasing out he had slipped 
away through the woods, and they only caught his 
derisive hoots in the distance. 

Up through the woods he went to Taplow’s 
cabin, where he found the hunter finishing his sup- 
per. He got his yellow box and picked several well- 

264 


MYSTERIOUS PREPARATIONS 


blackened sticks from the hearth. These he carried 
with him out to the lake and up to where the 
woods ended this side of the village. A little 
summer-house stood on the shore here, and the Wise 
Guy made for it. He sat there until the moon rose 
in the sky, and then he got busy. First he drew a 
circle on the bench with one of the bits of charcoal 
and copied as carefully as he could the markings he 
saw on the moon’s face. He worked over this for 
some time, imtil he had every shadow reproduced. 
Then he took the yellow cover of his box and repro- 
duced all the markings on it. He had the face of 
the man in the moon and also the profile of the 
w oman. With his thumb he rubbed the charcoal 
carefully over the yellow surface. When it was 
done he set the cover up in front of him and com- 
pared it bit by bit with the original that was sailing 
through the deep blue sky. He was an artist, not 
content until he had his copy as accurate as he could 
make it. Then he pulled off his toque and twisted 
his upstanding lock of hair in his fingers as he sur- 
veyed his work. ‘‘ Fve got him all right,” he mut- 
tered. ‘‘ Tisn’t my fault if they don’t recognize 
him!” 


265 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


With his knife he cut holes about where the eyes 
of the man in the moon would be, then holes for 
a nose and mouth. Again he looked at his handi- 
work and nodded approvingly at it. Then he loos- 
ened the cord that held the cover to the box proper, 
and stuck his head in through the opening at the 
side. It was plenty big enough, and it stayed in place 
like a gigantic mask. He looked out through the eye- 
holes at his counterpart in the sky. “ Hope nobody 
comes prowling round here,’' he murmured. “ I 
reckon this yellow head would frighten ’em to death.” 

The rehearsal completed, he took off the head, 
and carrying it back to Taplow’s, put it up on the 
shelf. 

Back at the lodge again he got the blue gown 
that he had hidden in his bunk and a small pot of 
glue from the storehouse. He glued the stars he had 
cut from the pasteboard here and there over the 
front of the gown, and then put it back in its hiding- 
place. After that he threw another log on the fire 
of the Buffaloes’ cabin to make sure that the place 
would be' warm when they went to bed, and then set 
out to see what the other boys were doing. 

Only about half the troop sat before the hearth 
266 


MYSTERIOUS PREPARATIONS 


in the big cabin. The Wise Guy peeped in, and not 
seeing the scouts he was looking for, stole out again. 
On the edges of the clearing he heard whispers, 
where boys were still working on their mysterious 
outfits. He walked a short distance through the 
woods and came to the edge of the lake. Here he 
heard the voices of the two he was in search of. 
Skipper and Max were walking up and down, talk- 
ing. Or rather Max was reading from a paper he 
held in his hand, lighted by an electric torch, and 
Skipper was interrupting him and making various 
suggestions. A frozen twig cracked, and the two 
scouts, looking around, saw the Wise Guy at the 
edge of the trees. What are you doing there? ” 
they demanded almost in one voice. 

“ I was looking for you,’’ was the answer. 

Did you hear what I was saying? ” asked Max, 
sticking the paper into his pocket. 

** No. What was it? ” 

A secret. You’ll enjoy it more if we don’t tell 
it now.” 

The Wise Guy smiled. If Max was trying to 
get even with him he had no objection. “Well,” 
he said, joining them on the lake, “my costume’s 
267 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


ready, and Fd like a little change. Let^s try the 
path through the woods along the lake south.’’ 

The three boys crunched through the snow, 
enjoying the weird light the moon cast between the 
trees. The spirit of night adventure led them on 
and on until they came to the place where the shore 
curved to the east. The sky’s clouding up,” said 
Max. The moon was indeed being driven to shelter 
back of rapidly-drifting cloudbanks. ‘‘ Better be 
heading home,” he suggested. ‘‘ Feels as if there 
were snow in the air.” 

They went back over the lake, choosing a path 
where the wind of the last few days had blown the 
snow fairly clear of the ice. Clouds heaped up in 
the sky, the moon disappeared, and presently a few 
snow-flakes began to fall. ‘‘ Another storm coming,” 
said Skipper, and quickened his pace. The moon- 
light vanished, the snow fell thicker and thicker, 
the boys pulled their toques well down over their ears 
and stuck their hands in their pockets. 

By the time they reached camp there was no 
doubt that another storm had blown down from the 

north. They pushed open the door of the big cabin 
268 


MYSTERIOUS PREPARATIONS 


and hurried to the hearth. ‘Well/’ said Mr. Grafton, 
“ we were beginning to wonder what had become of 
you three. I just counted noses. When the snow 
begins to fall at night in the woods wise people make 
a bee-line for camp.” 

“ So we did,” said Skipper. “ Camp sounded 
pretty good out on the lake.” 

When the three patrols sought their cabins the 
lake and the woods were already very nearly snow- 
bound. “ Hope we’ll be able to get up to the Castle 
to-morrow night,” said Sandy Simmons, eying the 
storm. “ Sure we’ll be able to,” retorted Dick. 
“ Did you ever know a little thing like a blizzard 
to keep this troop from doing what it planned to? ” 

Sandy laughed. “ Pretty hard on the costumes, 
though. Think of a lot of fancy-dress people hik- 
ing from here to the Castle through a blizzard ! And 
I don’t mind telling you that the rig I’ve fixed up is 
something pretty fine.” 

“ Bet you it isn’t a bit more scrumptious than 
mine,” returned Dick. “ And I mean to get up there 
to-morrow night if I have to build an aeroplane to 
fly in.” 


269 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


The scouts shut their cabin doors for the night, 
most of them thinking of the party. The snow fell 
steadily through the trees and over the broad bosom 
of the lake. The Wise Guy chuckled to himself. 
‘‘Lucky I did my painting early,’’ he murmured. 
“ Pretty decent of the moon to let me have a shot 
at him before he took to his heels.” 


XIX 


SCOUTS TO THE RESCUE 

The snow fell all night long and was still falling 
when Philip opened the door of the cabin next morn- 
ing. The wind was not blowing the way it had in 
the earlier storm, nor had so much snow yet fallen ; 
nevertheless it was pretty well banked up every- 
where. After breakfast Mr. Grafton said that he 
thought they ought to have some sleighs or sledges 
come down to the lodge that night if the storm kept 
up, otherwise they wouldn’t be looking their best 
when they reached the Castle. The Buffaloes imme- 
diately volunteered to go to Saulsbury and see the 
postmaster about it, and very soon they set out, 
shod with snow-shoes, toques and mufflers keeping 
their faces warm. 

The lack of a high wind made the tramping easy, 
and they reached the village in a short time, and 
there arranged with the postmaster about the sleighs 
and sledges. Coming out from the store the sight 

271 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


of so much snow was very alluring; first, they had 
a match to see which could throw a snowball the 
farthest, then they turned to and built a wonderful 
snowman, a giant, who stood in front of the post- 
office as Indians sometimes stand before cigar- 
stores. 

‘‘ He reminds me of Mr. Whipple, about to make 
a speech,’’ said Duck. 

Let’s go round and call on Mr. Whipple,” sug- 
gested Max. ‘‘ He’s a good sport, and I like to hear 
him talk.” 

Ezra Whipple’s house was only a short way 
around the corner, and the scouts found him hard at 
work shovelling a path from his door to the road. 

Morning, boys,” said he, leaning on his shovel. 

I don’t much more than get my path clear when 
along comes another storm and I’ve got it to do again. 
That’s the worst of having a house in the country.” 
He surveyed the sky a minute, and then added, ‘‘ You 
know, I’m a little uneasy about that Barnaby family. 
They’ve had a run of bad luck. Joshua’s still laid 
up with his rheumatiz, and a couple of days ago 
his wife slipped on a piece of ice and hurt her leg 
so she couldn’t get about much, and their girl’s got 
272 


SCOUTS TO THE RESCUE 


her hands pretty full. I shouldn’t wonder if their 
larder’d got pretty low, and a storm like this’ll just 
about cut ’em off from getting to the village. How’d 
you like to tramp out there with me, and see if we 
can put things right? ” 

Fine,” cried Duck; I can milk the cow,” said 
Skipper. “ Lead the way, Mr. Whipple, and we’ll 
follow,” chimed in Philip. 

Max felt in his pocket and found he had some 
money there. Let’s stop at the store,” he said, “ and 
get some things to take up with us. I don’t like 
the Barnaby family to go hungry.” 

Mr. Whipple shouldered his wooden shovel, and 
they all marched to the store. There the boys bought 
some loaves of bread, some tea and coffee and flour, 
other things that they thought might be useful, and 
borrowed a couple of snow-shovels. Laden with 
their supplies, they felt like an Arctic relief expe- 
dition as they set out again. 

The Barnaby house and bam were well snowed 
in. No path had been opened from the Pike to the 
front door, but a girl in a red tippet was working at 
clearing a path from the door to the bam. ‘‘ Here’s 
a fine job,” exclaimed Philip. Let’s pitch in and cut 
18 273 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


a good-sized path.” He went to work with a will, 
and the other boys who had shovels followed his 
example and made the snow fly right and left. 

It didn’t take long for such energetic beavers to 
make their way to the door. As they worked the 
girl stopped to look at them. We’ll finish that 
job, Elsie,” Mr. Whipple called to her. ‘‘ How’s 
the family getting on? ” 

I’m the only one that’s much good to-day,” she 
called back, and smiled as she saw how the boys were 
ploughing their way through. 

As soon as the path to the door was done those 
scouts who hadn’t been working took the shovels and 
opened a path to the bam. ‘‘ Want me to milk the 
cow for you? ” asked Skipper, as he came up to Elsie 
Barnaby. 

I wasn’t worrying about that,” she answered. 
‘‘ But there’s a couple of horses I’ve got to see to.” 

Meantime Mr. Whipple had knocked on the front 
door and after a minute opened it. He went in, with 
Philip, Duck and Max. Each boy had a package 
with him, and they trooped into the living-room. 
Joshua Barnaby sat in his chair near the fire, and 
Mrs. Barnaby limped forward to meet them. ‘‘ Well, 

274 


SCOUTS TO THE RESCUE 


I’m right glad to see you, Ezra,” she said, and you 
young men, too. Sit right down and make yourselves 
to home.” 

A few questions showed that Ezra Whipple’s 
guess had been right. The Barnabys were in straits, 
neither Joshua nor his wife able to get out-of-doors, 
the little boy suffering from a heavy cold, and all 
the work falling on Elsie. ‘‘Well,” said Mr. 
Whipple, “ we’ve made a path to the barn and one 
to the road, and my young friends here would stop 
at the store and get a few provisions. They thought 
it would be kinder neighborly to come up and see how 
you was all getting on.” 

Mrs. Bamaby’s eyes shone with pleasure. “ We 
don’t need the provisions,” she said; then added 
hastily, “ though we’re ever so much obliged to you 
for bringing them. But we do ’preciate your coming 
out to see us very much. I guess it would have taken 
Elsie most all day to get that bit of work done. 
Here she comes with the rest of the boys now.” 
Mrs. Bamaby, trying to make light of her lameness, 
pushed some chairs forward. “ You see we haven’t 
seen any neighbors for most all of a week.” 

Joshua Bamaby was a quiet man, but he seemed 
275 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


almost as much pleased as his wife to have so many 
callers. It was easy to see that the family had had 
rather a hard time of it, but it was also plain that 
they were used to making the best of things. Mrs. 
Bamaby was the sort of woman who radiated cheer- 
fulness, and her daughter Elsie, though at present 
she looked rather pale and peaked, seemed to be like 
her mother. She was laughing at Skipper, who was 
pretending that he knew a great deal about looking 
after livestock! 

The Bamabys had heard nothing about the cap- 
ture of the gang of trappers, and when Mr. Whipple 
happened to mention that exploit of the troop they 
insisted on being told all about it. As the different 
boys told the different parts of the story Ezra 
Whipple beamed upon them very much as a proud 
father might smile at a lot of promising sons. The 
Barnabys were very much impressed, Elsie looked 
with new interest at the remarkable Max and the 
Wise Guy, and when she heard how the agile Skipper 
had climbed the tree and hidden she showed enough 
admiration to more than make up for all the fun she 
had made of his ignorance of cows and horses. 

Skipper grinned and made a mock-modest bow, 

276 


SCOUTS TO THE RESCUE 


striking an attitude like a man on the stage. Pretty 
hot stuff, Miss Red Riding Hood,” said he. ‘‘If you 
ever need a trusty knight to rescue you from Grand- 
mother Wolf, whistle three times and I’ll drop down 
the chimney. Easiest thing I do.” 

“ Good little Skipper,” said Duck. “ He does 
love the limelight. And what’s become of our other 
star performer, the Wise Guy ? Isn’t it time for his 
song and dance? ” 

The Wise Guy, however, was very busy talking 
to Mr. Barnaby, and no amount of jollying could 
distract his attention. 

“ Isn’t there something else we can do for you? ” 
Philip asked Mrs. Bamaby after a while. “ Some 
errand at the village ? ” 

“ There are two or three things I’d like at the 
store,” she said, “ but you boys have done quite 
enough for us already.” 

“ I can get them,” said Elsie. “ I know what 
you want.” 

“Have you got a sled?” asked Skipper. “If 
you have Duck and I can take you there and back 
in no time. The road’s just right for sledding.” 

Elsie had a sled, and soon, her red tippet blowing 
277 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


in the wind, she was sailing over the snow, drawn by 
two fiery steeds. She laughed more than she had 
done in a month, and when they got back to the 
house her cheeks were almost as red as one of her 
mother's winter apples. 

We're ever so much obliged to you," Mrs. 
Barnaby said to the boys as they started to go. ‘‘ It 
don't matter how hard it snows now, we're pro- 
visioned for it." 

Ezra Whipple took the road to his house, and 
the boys knew by their appetites that it must be 
nearly time for them to be back at camp. The snow 
had ceased falling, and they footed it down the lake 
in a warming midday sun. They had almost reached 
the lodge when Philip, who was in the lead, held 
up his hand warningly. Looking ahead they saw a 
snow rampart, some four feet high, jutting out from 
the shore in front of camp, and on it flew their own 
patrol flag, the black Buffalo on a white field. 

Silently they stole into the woods and each scout 
made as many snowballs as he could carry. They 
crept along in the shelter of the trees until they were 
within twenty-five yards of the fort, and then dashed 
out into the open. 


278 


SCOUTS TO THE RESCUE 


Dick saw them coming, and with a yell let fire 
with a snowball. Then began a stirring battle, in 
which the Buffaloes, out in the open, were marked 
with many a smudge of snow before they reached the 
rampart. “ On, Buffaloes, on! ” cried Philip. ‘‘ To 
the flag! To the flag! ” The Buffaloes dodged and 
ducked, shielded themselves with arms and shoul- 
ders, but followed his lead. Over the rampart they 
jumped, Philip caught the patrol flag and waved it 
high before he slid down on the other side. Yelling 
like a pack of Indians the scouts rolled over and over 
in the snow, attackers and defenders mixed together, 
all having a glorious time in the soft deep drifts. 

The bugle blew from the lodge, and twenty boys, 
coated with snow, got up and began to beat the white 
stuff from each other’s clothes. Then they raced to 
the dining-cabin, and fell into their seats at the two 
tables. The cooks were ready, they had done them- 
selves proud on this last dinner they were to cook 
in camp. 

After dinner the finishing touches were put to 
the costumes for that night’s visit to the Castle. 
Max and Skipper went to a safe hiding-place, where 
Max read something he had written and Skipper 
279 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


suggested a few improvements in it; the Wise Guy 
had a little rehearsal by himself ; and Philip, off in 
the woods where no one could hear him, practised 
strange-sounding words that he was learning from 
a book. 

Then as the sun set the scouts returned to their 
cabins, dressed themselves in many strange garbs, 
concealed these wonderful clothes in blankets and 
overcoats, and made ready for the sleighs that were 
due at nightfall. 


XX 


THE GALA NIGHT AT THE CASTLE 

Mr. Satterlee was standing in front of the 
fireplace in the big hall of his house that evening, 
wondering what had become of all his guests. The 
clock on his mantelpiece said seven, and people at 
the Castle were usually clamoring for food by that 
hour. He lighted a cigarette, and balanced backward 
and forward, his hands stretched out to the pleasant 
warmth. Then some noise behind him made him 
turn, and to his intense surprise he found that an 
Indian had silently opened the front door, and was 
greeting him with uplifted arm. ' 

How ! ” said the Indian, who appeared to be 
a great chief, to judge from the many-colored feath- 
ers in his black hair. Then the Indian went on utter- 
ing strange words, which unquestionably sounded 
like an Indian tongue, though Mr. Satterlee could not 
understand them. He bowed politely, however; re- 
turned the greeting How ! '' and gestured his 
strange guest to step nearer to the fire. 

281 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


There were a number of doors into the big hall 
of the Castle, and as Mr. Satterlee turned again to- 
ward the hearth he was amazed to see one of them 
open and admit a very wicked-looking pirate, who 
wore a brilliant red handkerchief bound about his 
forehead, big brass rings in his ears, and a belt stuck 
full of strange dirks and knives. 

" Where’s the treasure that you hid. 

From the mighty Captain Kidd ? ” 

hissed the pirate, and he drew a knife from his belt 
and whetted it threateningly on his boot. 

Take all Tve got,’' faltered Mr. Satterlee, ‘‘ but 
don’t make me walk the plank on such a cold night 
as this.” 

Just then a lasso fell over the back of a chair 
and dragged it across the floor. Mr. Satterlee 
wheeled around, to discover that a big cowboy had 
slipped into the hall, and was waving his wide som- 
brero at him. Don’t mind if I rope a few steers, 
do you? ” asked the cowboy. 

‘‘ Go ahead and rope the whole herd,” Mr. 
Satterlee answered, gesturing at all the furniture in 
the place. 


282 


THE GALA NIGHT AT THE CASTLE 

A cold draught came from the front door, and 
three sailors blew in, all rolling in their walk and 
hitching at their trousers. Avast there, my heart- 
ies ! sang out the first sailor, and pulled a small 
mouth-organ from his pocket. Putting it to his lips 
he played a jig, while the other two executed a 
wonderfully lively sailor’s hornpipe. 

'' By the great Jehosaphat! ” exclaimed the thor- 
oughly amazed owner of the Castle. This is get- 
ting better and better ! But where on earth did you 
all drop from ! ” 

Then almost out of the fireplace it seemed a tall 
figure stepped, scarlet from the feather in his cap to 
the tips of his curling slippers. He wore a great 
red cape, and his black mustaches were long and 
waxed to sharp points. The Devil ! ” cried Mr. 
Satterlee. 

The very same,” admitted the tall man, bowing. 
“ Always at your service when you want company.” 

On the stairs appeared a lady, dressed in the gor- 
geous gown of Queen Elizabeth’s day, a huge 
starched ruff about her neck, and a rope of pearls 
in her hair. Behind her came a Cardinal in a scarlet 
robe, and a gentleman who might have been Beau 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


Brummel, in a snuff-colored suit with a white stock 
and silver waistcoat. Mr. Satterlee raised the lady’s 
hand to his lips. Oh, would I had a cloak,” said 
he, ‘‘ to save those dainty slippers from the mire ! ” 

Some one back of him stepped forward and 
spread a red cloak before the lady. ‘‘ It’s my privi- 
lege, Madam,” said this gallant. 

The Queen stepped on to the cloak. She gave 
the courtier a playful slap on the shoulder. Rise, 
Sir Walter,” she said, '' the very pattern of English 
chivalry ! ” 

A bold-looking pioneer who happened to be 
standing by Captain Kidd, whispered to that pirate, 
‘‘ That’s one on Mr. Robins. I’m pretty certain 
Miss Parrish said something about being Queen 
Elizabeth, so he chose Walter Raleigh. But this 
Queen’s one of the others. Miss Parrish hasn’t 
shown up yet.” 

At which the fierce-eyed Kidd only shook his 
head. I must have that rope of pearls before the 
night’s done,” he muttered. 

The hall was filling up with Robin Hood and 
his merry men, with magicians in long black gowns 
and steeple hats, with tramps and gypsies, with elves 
284 


THE GALA NIGHT AT THE CASTLE 


and goblins. Mr. Satterlee stood in front of the 
hearth, greeting each strange guest as he arrived. 
The hall, big as it was, seemed almost crowded ; then 
there were a few notes from a guitar heard at the 
top of the stairs, and down came two figures in 
white, a dainty Columbine, and a tall, slender Pierrot, 
big black buttons on his white suit, and a black 
ball hanging from the end of his tall white cap. 
Hand in hand they made their way to the big rug 
in front of Mr. Satterlee, while every one looked 
on. Columbine made a curtsy and Pierrot a bow. 
Then Pierrot swung his guitar on its broad white 
ribbon round in front of him, and played an old 
French tune, while Columbine sang a song of the 
nightingale and the summer moon. They did it 
well together, so well that the whole room broke into 
a storm of applause. 

Bully for Dick and Miss' Parrish,” the pioneer 
murmured to Captain Kidd. “ He’ll be cutting Mr. 
Robins out if he keeps that up.” 

‘‘ She’s some pippin,” answered Captain Kidd. 

Looks as light and fluffy as a ball of thistledown.” 

The tall red devil was speaking. ‘‘Is all the 
285 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


company here? All the knights and ladies, all the 
wicked and the good ? ” 

There was a loud knock at the front door, and 
then it opened, and the strangest of all that strange 
throng entered. A round yellow head surmounted 
a dark blue gown, and on the head were various 
markings and on the gown a lot of silver stars. 

This odd-looking creature made its way through 
the throng to the open space in front of the Castle’s 
master. It bowed three times, and turned slowly 
round so that every one could see its head. It’s the 
Man in the Moon ! ” cried Mr. Satterlee. He held 
out his hand. “ Shake, Man in the Moon,’' said he. 
‘‘ I’ve always wanted to have a closer view of you.” 

‘‘ And see the Lady in the Moon, too,” said 
Columbine, and with her finger she traced the outline 
of the lady on the round yellow face. ‘‘ I’ve got a 
song about you I must sing to you,” she said, and 
added mischievously, “ But later, when we’re alone.” 

Duck, a gypsy, turned to Big Chief Philip. “ I’ll 
bet that’s the Wise Guy,” said he. He’s surely 
some pumpkin when it comes to doing things differ- 
ent from the rest.’' 

Meantime the Man in the Moon, like his original 
286 


THE GALA NIGHT AT THE CASTLE 


in the sky, slowly floated about, giving every one 
a chance to observe his markings and admire his 
strange attire. 

“ Every one here? ’’ called out the Devil in red. 

Yes, every one,’’ came a chorus of voices. 

“ Then on to the feast ! cried the Devil. 

“ I’m awfully sorry,” exclaimed Mr. Satterlee, 
‘‘ but you’ve taken me by surprise. I’m afraid there 
won’t be the proper food for such a magnificent 
party.” 

‘‘ Never fear,” said the man in red. When 
it comes to things to eat and drink I can always pro- 
vide.” He took the hand of Queen Elizabeth, and 
led the way to the dining-room, followed by the 
throng of guests. 

Instead of the big table there were a lot of small 
ones. The Man in the Moon found himself sitting 
next to the dainty Columbine. ‘‘ I’m afraid you’ll 
have to lose your head,” she said, if you want to 
eat anything. And the feast does look very, very 
good.” 

Then the Man in the Moon rose to the height of 
gallantry. ‘‘ Anybody who sat next you would lose 
his head,” said he; and he untied the cords that held 
287 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


his head in place and took off the yellow box. His 
hair was rumpled and his face was flushed, but he 
wore a smile of triumph. 

‘‘ Oh, Mr. Wise Guy,’’ she said, that was nice 
of you! I’ll always remember that when I look at 
the Moon.” 

The big Devil, who was, of course, none other 
than Mr. Hackett, had provided a magnificent sup- 
per, part of which at least had been ordered in the 
city several days before. Appetites, whetted by the 
winter air, were equal to the feast, and for a time 
there was more noise of knives and forks than of 
tongues. The ice creams were little individual snow- 
men, looking like the one the Buffaloes had made 
beside the road at Saulsbury. When Mr. Satterlee 
saw these he called out to the man in red, who was 
sitting at the other end of the room, ‘‘ Oh, Mr. 
Devil, I wish you’d take charge of my kitchen every 
day!” ' 

The snowmen melted mysteriously, and the gay 
crowd of masqueraders returned to the hall. The 
Wise Guy put on his head and became the Man in 
the Moon again. Captain Kidd, stealing up behind 
Queen Elizabeth, pretended to steal the rope of pearls 
288 


THE GALA NIGHT AT THE CASTLE 


that was wound about her hair. “ Oh, please don’t, 
good Mr. Kidd,” she begged, catching his hand. 
“ They’re only imitation. Here are real jewels,” 
and she picked up a plate of candies from a table and 
thrust them at him, which seemed to please the 
greedy pirate chief quite as well. 

A noble fire was blazing on the great hearth in 
the hall, and candles in sockets on the walls were 
lighted now, so that the place looked more than ever 
like a Baron’s castle. The Devil took charge of the 
program. He borrowed Pierrot’s guitar, and sang 
a rollicking troubadour song that was encored three 
times. Then, in some persuasive way he got others 
to do things. The sailors repeated their hornpipe, 
Robin Hood, who was the Scout-master, gave them 
a ballad about the wicked Sheriff of Nottingham. 
Magicians did tricks. Duck, the gypsy, danced a clog, 
and “ Injun ” Philip made a speech in what he said 
was Choctaw dialect, though nobody could under- 
stand a word he said. 

Then Columbine hunted out the Man in the 
Moon, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor. 
Standing in front of him she sang a song about him, 
so flattering a song that it would surely have made 

19 289 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 


him blush if he hadn't been such a fixed yellow. 
At the end of the song he stood up. Oh, beautiful 
lady," he said. I may be the Moon, but you are 
surely the Sun. And when the Sun appears the 
Moon fades in the sky." He took off his head and 
handed it to her. I’m mighty glad to get rid of 
it," he added, with a grin. ‘Ht was getting awfully 
hot." 

After that Max drew a paper from an inside 
pocket of his pioneer’s jacket and walked over to 
Mr. Satterlee. The Devil waved his hands for 
silence, and Max, bowing to the company, began 
to read. 

“ I might relate the doughty deeds 
Of many famous scouts, 

And my recital would call forth 
Your most approving shouts. 

I know you all would like to hear 
How three of us were trapped 
By thieving men ; and how the three 
Were into prison clapped. 

How the same three — a clever lot, 

Slid down the roof and dropped 
Into a snow-bank; how one skipped, 

The other two were stopped. 

290 



THE GALA NIGHT AT THE CASTLE 















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And skinned his toes and heels. 

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But none of this will I relate — 

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We’re glad we met Hugh Satterlee 
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He took us to his Castle high, 

A royal Castle too; 

Here’s to you, Mr. Satterlee! 

And ladies, here’s to you I 

The Troop has had a bully time, 

We’re mighty glad we’re here ! 

Now, fellows, give ’em three times three. 
And make ’em loud and clear ! ” 


291 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF SNOW-SHOE LODGE 

Max waved his arms, and the scouts gave nine 
cheers that made the rafters ring. 

“ Boys,” said Mr. Satterlee, Tm mighty glad I 
got that spill down on the lake when I see what it’s 
led to! ” 

Skipper had pulled aside a curtain at one of the 
windows and was looking at the moonlight on the 
snow. “ Couldn’t we try the toboggan run again ? ” 
he asked eagerly. ‘‘ We’re leaving the woods to- 
morrow.” 

Sure,” said Mr. Satterlee; and in the twinkling 
of an eye overcoats and sweaters and mufflers and 
arctics appeared, and everybody was making for 
outdoors. 

The moon was very bright, and down the long 
run Sped toboggan after toboggan, filled with strange- 
looking people, pirates and gypsies and devils, 
bundled up in all sorts of things to keep them warm. 

There was nothing finer than speeding down the 
run, and whoops of delight came from each toboggan 
as it shot over the snow and raised a cloud of light, 
feathery flakes. Columbine, wrapped in a big fur 
coat, sailed down time and again back of Mr. Robins, 
and he saw to it that they didn’t once upset. But 

292 


THE GALA NIGHT AT THE CASTLE 


Max, always observant where his baseball coach was 
concerned, shook his head as he happened to over- 
hear some chance remarks. ‘‘ Don’t forget that 
you’re coming to see me in the Easter holidays,” 
said Columbine. And Sir Walter Raleigh, now 
wearing a sweater instead of his dashing cloak, 
answered, ‘‘ I don’t see how I can wait till then.” 

Max shrugged his shoulders. Even men like 
Mr. Robins would be foolish, he thought, when the 
moon was out ; perhaps when they got back to school 
he would forget such nonsense. 

It was almost midnight before they left that won- 
derful moonlit slide. The scouts said good-bye to 
the rest of the party at the Castle steps and piled into 
the waiting sleighs and sledges. Cheers from the 
troop were answered by cheers from the others; 
whips cracked, horses started, sleigh-bells rang out. 
Down the road went the sledges, past the village, 
into the road through the woods. 

The Wise Guy, sitting close to Skipper, pulled his 
muffler away from his mouth. ‘‘ It’s pretty hard to 
beat this, isn’t it. Skipper?” he said. 

“ You can’t beat it,” answered Skipper, posi- 
tively. It simply can’t be done ! ” 

293 


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